


The Dark Witch of Gotham

by Justmylifeiguess



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Batfamily, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Damian Wayne is Robin, Dick Grayson is Robin, Everyone Is Gay, Familiars, Good Grandparent Alfred Pennyworth, Good Parent Alfred Pennyworth, How Do I Tag, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, It's coming I promise, Magic, Tags Are Hard, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Trauma, Witchcraft, it takes a while to get there tho, sorry i'm lazy - Freeform, why is this so long
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2020-10-18 15:14:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 36,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20641262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justmylifeiguess/pseuds/Justmylifeiguess
Summary: Batman, or Bruce Wayne, is a witch. In old lore, being a witch was considered a curse, bringing misfortune to the witch and those around them. Only wizards were said to be immune. Unfortunately, this is true, as Bruce discovered at a young age, when his parents were killed in front of him. Now he searches for and helps young, struggling witches with the help of the wizard Alfred.





	1. Chapter 1

Batman trudged into the cave, tired after a long night's patrol. A small bat, or what looked to be, fluttered out from under his cape. It screeched at the other bats, who let out a chorus of returning welcomes. It then flew and hung from a railing, waiting patiently for Bruce to be done taking off his suit. It was quiet, yet comfortable. The kind of silence shared by old friends who already know what the other would say, and they both know they don't have to.

Tommorow was another day, for another man. Bruce Wayne was the best lie Batman ever told, and tommorow he would be parading around as always. As much as he hated 'avoiding' paparazzi and acting like someone he was disgusted with, it was necesary, and he knew necesary.

"Computer. What's tommorow's schedule." It was more of a statement than a question. It always was, with him.

"Certainly. 9:00am, board meeting. 11:00am-12:00pm, lunch. 3:00pm, hailey's circus. 7:00pm, met gala." The voice was robotic and emotionless. Bruce sighed and went upstairs. He opened the fridge to find some of the leftovers from dinner on a plate with a note from alfred. 

"I'm proud of you." Was all it said. Although Alfred did this every night, it never failed to make Bruce smile. It always had the same words on the note, ever since Bruce was little. He often had nightmares and went to the kitchen for a snack to distract him. Seeing or hearing those words had proved very important to him as a child, and Alfred never stopped. 

As he put the food in the microwave, he wondered what might happen if he didn't get a note one night. He might wonder if Alfred was okay, or if something was wrong. If he did something wrong. He frowned, and the bat grabbed onto his arm, hanging underneath it. Bruce smiled, small enough that most wouldn't notice, and took a second to scratch the bat under the chin, which it seemed to apreciate.

He stopped the timer on the food before it went off, so as to not wake Alfred. Alfred to him was more than a butler. He was a mentor, a friend, even a parent. Most of all, he was trustworthy, and he understood Bruce. Understood how he could do the things he could. 

He sat down to eat, handing his familiar a bite. It took it happily. That probably wasn't a healthy diet for a bat, but really, this one was special. He finished pretty his food and kept his arm out from the bat to hang from as we walked to his room.

He had it pretty good, he thought, as he walked down the dark halls. He finally had what he wanted, with no need for change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first work on Ao3, constructive critisism is highly encouraged! Sorry this is short! If you think this is filler you're totally right but it sets up the next chapter soooo....
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading and please read the next one!


	2. Change

Things were going to change in the manor. Bruce had gone to the circus, and wasn't sure yet what to think. When the flying Graysons act started, nothing seemed amiss. At least until the cables snapped. Bruce knew he couldn't help them, but a part of him made him stand up. The parents hit the ground with a sickening thud as their necks snapped. Blood pooled around them as a young boy screamed, drawing attention back up above.

"MAMI!! PAPI!!" A boy who looked around 10 almost flew down the ladder, running toward the bodies. Bruce felt his heart break as he reached them, and, seeing the state they were in, vomiting. Bruce began to walk away with the crowd, but he kept looking back at the sobbing boy. He was almost to the exit when he saw a tiny bird fly down to the boy, nuzzling into his shoulder and shaking just as hard as him.

Bruce was not stupid. Far from it, he liked to think. That little bird was not a normal bird, nor was the boy a normal boy. He was a witch, and now Bruce knew he was the only one who could truly help him. He aproached the boy slowly, making his steps deliberately louder so as not to scare him. 

He crouched down when he reached him, trying not to look at the open, glassy eyes of his parents. Here was another boy, another young witch, who now had to deal with the same trauma as him. He couldn't not help him, but once he was there with him he realized he didn't know how he could. 

What were you suposed to do with a kid anyway? That sounded like a question for Alfred. Alfred would know, that man knew everything there was to know about kids. And cooking. And maintenance, and gardening... maybe just everything about everything. But Beuce didn't. He had no idea what to do to help the boy in front of him. He figured he would, figured he could give the boy everything he'd wanted in that moment.

The problem was that he realized that everything he'd wanted in that moment was for one of them to wake up. For both of them to wake up, so they could go home. He remembered his familiar seeming like his only friend in the whole world. A friend now in his shirt pocket, resting comfortingly against his heartbeat. Maybe... he could just, just be there. Just let him know he wasn't alone. It wasn't just him and that little bird.

So he just sat there next to him, letting him cry his eyes dry and looking into the daggers the bird was shooting from its eyes. Eventually the boy seemed tired, and like he wanted to leave. Run away was more like it, really. Bruce got up and stuck out his hand to the boy. The robin on his shoulder puffed itself up, mistaking it for a threat.

"What's your name?" Bruce asked, trying to sound comforting. The boy looked up at him in fear, backing away from him a little. Bruce sighed and reached into his shirt pocket. The boy looked ready to bolt, but then saw the bat in his hand and registered what it meant. Although the sadness was still there, the fear in the boys eyes was replaced by awe.

"I'll ask you again, what's your name?" Bruce stuck out his hand again, putting the bat back. It was hard, after years of training himself to do the opposite, but he tried to communicate the complex emotions he was feeling through his face. It must have worked, to some degree, because the boy took his hand, mumbling something in a hoarse voice.

"Richard, but everyone calls me Dick...."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one... i guess that's just how it's gonna be. I'll probably make a couple chapters way too long....  
Anyway if you liked it please show your apreciation! If not, that's okay too. Thanks for reading, i hope you'll keep going and sorry for my bad writing! :) :)


	3. Chapter 3

Social workers bombarded them almost as soon as they stood up. A woman with a fake smile, stuffy suit, and a necklace of overly large fake pearls, to be exact. There was an almost pleasant perfume cloud that hovered vaguely about her, as though even it wasn’t sure if it wanted to be there. The woman looked pointedly away as emergency responders declared Dick’s parents officially dead.

Dick started crying again, tears forced from eyes that should not have been able to cry any longer, sobs ripped from an already sore throat. Bruce frowned and wanted to help, but he wasn’t sure how, and his hesitation allowed the woman to get there first.

“It’ll be alright.” The woman’s words were robotic, practiced and meaningless. Her attempt at sympathy sounded more bored than anything else. Even worse, when she put her hand on his shoulder, squeezing too tightly, she shooed the robin away. This, however, was not a bird that would tolerate such things. It landed on top of her hand and pecked her fingers, causing her to pull her hand away with a yelp.

“I do not know how you were raised, but there are no pets allowed. I’m afraid we’ll have to rehome your bird.” Despite her words, her tone conveyed her gratitude for that rule, and the satisfaction of this petty revenge. Dick’s face, however, was distraught. Leave his bird behind? His familiar? He couldn’t imagine living a life without him. Bruce had had enough.

“What if… I took him in?” Bruce suggested. The woman’s face soured as though he’d suggested she drink curdled milk. The lines on her face showed that she made this face often.

“I know you’ve had your share of bending the rules, mister Wayne, but there are certain procedures, not to mention the boy’s consent.” This was the first time she’d acknowledged that Dick could have opinions.

“I’m sure you’re aware of my army of lawyers. As for his consent, that I cannot give.” Bruce left the decision to Dick. Now, Dick was tired. He had just watched his parents die, cried his eyes out, thrown up all the food he’d eaten that day, and now he has to make a life changing decision? It was between this strange, snobby woman and some foster home or a place to stay in the home of a billionaire, who also happened to be a witch. The answer seemed obvious to him, and although he would later wonder if he was being rational, he would never truly regret his decision.

“I… I.. I want to go with him…” The woman looked displeased, to say the least, and Bruce let a small smile cross his face. Bruce called his lawyers, and managed to get the paperwork done in 2 hours. The forms wee complicated and tedious, made more so by the woman, who wouldn’t stop looking over his shoulder, critiquing everything. Her name, it turned out, was Cecilia, and she said it with such self imposed righteousness that she seemed to think she was queen of the world.

During the 2 hours, Bruce looked up to check on Dick periodically. He sat in a cheap chair in the corner of the room, staring at the same spot on the floor the entire time, as though it could answer all the questions burning inside his mind. His robin lay on his shoulder, clearly not asleep but doing his best to fake it. It hurt Bruce to see him like that, in a way he had never felt before. It was though some force, deep inside him, wanted nothing more than to hug him and make him feel safe again. When he finally finished, the lawyers had left, and after calling Alfred, he walked over to Dick.

“Hey….” Bruce couldn’t think of what to say next, but it didn’t seem to matter. Dick wasn’t responding to his words. He waved his hand in front of the boy’s face, nothing. He went to touch his shoulder, but the robin saw him and woke Dick up himself. He looked vaguely surprised to see Bruce there, and it hit Bruce all at once the state the boy was in. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, his face blotchy, stage makeup smudged across it. His hair was messy and there were bloodstains on his leotard. “It’s time to go, Dick.”

Dick nodded and got up, numbly following Bruce to his car. The ride to the manor was painfully quiet, but Bruce couldn’t help but enjoy the way the boys eyes got a little happier when he saw the manor. His face was a conflicted combination of awe, wonder, and grief. When they reached the doors, Alfred greeted them warmly, treating Dick as though he had always been there.

“Welcome home master Bruce, young master Richard. Richard, if you will follow me, I can show you to your room.” Dick nodded again and followed Alfred. Although his silence was worrying, Alfred knew it was normal, and that he should allow the boy to grieve in his own way, while still giving him the help to do it properly. That was his biggest failing with Bruce, who simply refused to grieve properly, and he wasn’t about to make it again.

When they got to Dick’s room, all he could do was walk inside and blink, staring in awe. The walls were a tasteful red gray, and the floors were almost black wood. One of the smaller walls was covered in bookshelves with a window seat in the middle, drawers on one side, and a hanging rod on the other. As if that wasn’t enough room for clothes, there was a spacious walk-in closet and his own personal bathroom, complete with jacuzzi tub. The bed was a huge canopy bed too big for, in Dick’s opinion, 2 people, with crimson pillowcases, grey sheets, blacks blankets and a crimson accent blanket at the foot of the bed. There was a flat screen tv attached to several consoles and a cabinet full of games and movies. The couch was white and big enough to seat 5, with a large distressed style rug underneath it and a glass coffee table. A photo of waves breaking on a foreign coastline printed on canvas hung on the wall.

Dick closed the door and stumbled over to the window seat, looking out at the stars. He opened the window a bit, both to let air in and to allow his familiar to fly around before he woke up. He clutched the small bird to his chest and lied down on the window seat. With that, the youngest Grayson cried himself to sleep for the first of many, many nights to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, finally one a little bit longer! the original for this was deleted and I almost gave up on it because I worked really hard on it, but I did manage to have the willpower to rewrite it. Thanks for reading, hope you read the next one!


	4. The Batman

When Dick awoke, he didn’t have to open his eyes to know it wasn’t a dream. They were almost glued shut by dry tears, and judging by the light shining on them, it was at least noon. Even so, the intoxicating smell of pancakes wafted into his room. Had it not been there, he probably wouldn’t have gotten up.

Dick stretched his stiff joints and begrudgingly began to get ready, his robin landing half heartedly on his shoulder. He looked a mess when he finally came downstairs, as Bruce couldn’t help but notice. His hair was ruffled and messy, mixed with sweat and tears. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot, his face blotchy. He had hastily pulled on pajamas that morning, not wanting to go downstairs in his bloodstained unitard. They were obviously too big, and he consistently stepped on them. He also didn’t exactly smell the best.

As he rubbed his eyes, yawning, Bruce noticed how utterly pitiful Dick looked. His fingers were grubby, his face heartbreaking, and his steps were numb, emotionless. He was far too gloomy for a kid his age, and he reminded Bruce, rather unsettlingly, of himself as a kid. 

“Good morning, master Richard. Your breakfast is on the table, I hope all is to your liking.” As Dick reached the table and saw the elegant spread, he grew a new appreciation for the old butler. He had, rather regrettably, forgotten his name.

“Thanks…” It was awkward and and small, but it was the first word Dick had uttered since arriving, and Bruce would take it as a start. Dick was gripping his sleeve far too tightly and shifting his eyes over the table nervously, taking in the gourmet buffet. There were pancakes, light and fluffy with three types of syrup to choose from, all varieties of fruits, pastries, jams and jellies, eggs in five different styles, and a large tray of various breakfast meats. Bruce saw that he was overwhelmed and gestured for him to sit down. It was after He had done so and served himself a plate that Bruce spoke up.

“I want you to feel comfortable here, and I want to help you. My parents were also killed in front of me, when I was not much older than you.” Dick looked up from his food, listening intently. Everyone knew about the Wayne tragedy, but Bruce had never spoke publicly about it since he was thirteen. Even then, it had been scarce, and his tone was always laced with anger. Now, however, his tone was sympathetic and sorrowful. A part of Dick wanted to say that he didn’t want pity, yet another wanted someone to understand. The latter was winning, and Dick was growing more comfortable. He took a bite of his pancakes. Bruce spoke again, “I just have one question, and I’m not going to make you get rid of it, but why is the bird following you?”

Dick choked on his pancakes. Both Bruce and Alfred stood up, but he was breathing again in almost no time. Dick swallowed the bite carefully and slowly, mentally searching for an explanation. Bruce knew that he was a witch, of course, but he wanted to know if Dick even knew. If he did, Bruce needed to know how much Dick trusted him.

“I.. I.. I mean, he’s sorta always been there, ya know? I um, raised him from an egg and stuff…” Dick hoped this would be a good enough excuse, but a part of him doubted it. Bruce offered a small smile though, and said nothing more about it, letting Dick go back to his food. In his head, Bruce analyzed Dick’s words. He was horribly uneducated, he realized, as to what he was and what it meant for him and those around him. He would tell him, eventually, about who they both were and how he spent his nights, but right now was for building trust and healing wounds.

When Bruce went on patrol that night, he made sure Dick was asleep before entering the cave. He wondered, briefly, if the villains would notice he was twenty minutes behind schedule. Then he wondered if he should have a better name for his hideout. Then he figured he should stop wondering and suit up, so he did.

It was after patrolling the city, a rather dull night filled mostly with robbers and muggers, and one case of aggravated assault, that it happened. He had been in the middle of recording his log for the night, when he saw a small boy walking alone, squinting up at the buildings as he passed them. Batman would have mistaken him for a street rat had his clothes not looked fancy, despite being hastily pulled on. He was only going to suggest to him that it wasn’t safe to be out alone, when he realized who the boy was, and that there was a small bird perched on the wire above him. He pulled up next to him, speaking in his normal, gravely voice.

“What are you doing out so late? It’s not safe to be walking these streets alone at night.” The boy, who was of course Dick, stared him right in the eyes.

“Kinda hypocritical, don’t you think?” 

“I have bulletproof armor and years of training. What do you have?”

“Look, I’m not bothering anyone, okay? You do your investigations, I’m doing mine. I was hoping you might even help me if I ran into you.” Dick crossed his arms with a scowl. Bruce could tell it was not a look he usually gave.

“Just what are you investigating?” Bruce could probably guess the answer, but he had to know for sure.

“Actually, my parents’ murder…. The guy who did it, I remember him. We were around here when he threatened us.” His voice was a little happier, thinking that Batman might help him, although the way he said the first part would have made any stranger want to scoop him up in a hug. Bruce, however, had trained himself to remain stoic and emotionless.

“And you were just hoping to bump into him?”

“You got any better ideas?”

“Actually,” Bruce said with a smile only Alfred ever noticed, “I do.”


	5. Who I am

Dick shifted in his seat to give himself and his robin a better view out of the window. He was in the Batman’s car! What kid wouldn’t be fascinated? Batman himself held back a smile at Dick’s enthusiasm. They turned a sharp corner, and Dick understood why Batman had been so stern about seatbelts. This car was awesome.

“Say, whaddya call you car?” Dick’s voice was the happiest Bruce had ever heard it.

“I call it my car, just like anyone.”

“No way, its gotta have a cool name! Something really awesome..” Dick looked deep in thought, and Batman couldn’t help but be amused. “I’ve got it! Batcar! Wait, no, Batmobile!” Bruce would have suggested that that name sounded conceited, and that there was really no need, but the words died in his throat when he saw the young boys face. His eyes shone, and he grinned, his little robin happily perched on his shoulder. There was no hint of the grief that had plagued him for the entirety of his stay with Bruce Wayne. Bruce was some rich guy, but Batman, maybe Batman could help Dick. Whatever he chose, he decided that he would do all he could to let Dick keep that smile on his face. A part of him almost needed to.

“The bird on your shoulder. Does it mean what I think it means?” Bruce didn’t want to, but he had to ask.

“Huh? What would it mean?” Dick looked startled, and rather as though his feathers had been ruffled. Bruce internally cringed as he realized his brain had made a pun. He forced it out of his head, continuing the conversation.

“If it means what I suspect, it may help in the investigation.” Dick remained silent, chewing on both the inside of his cheek and the thoughts in his mind. Bruce saw he was uncomfortable, and mentally shrugged. What was the harm, right? “Computer. Change vehicle ID to Batmobile.” Dick whipped around, lighting up again like a christmas tree and shooting him a victorious grin. Bruce couldn’t help but notice his legs kicking happily.

“Hey, B? Where’re we going?”

“B?”

“Oh yeah, I make nicknames for everybody. What, you got another one?” Bruce thought briefly about how Superman and some other leaguers sometimes called him ‘Batsy’ before responding.

“Not really. That reminds me, I never got your name.” Bruce knew, of course, and although he was seriously debating telling Dick his secrets, he had to keep up the act.

“Richard Grayson, but everybody calls me Dick. Anyway, you never answered my question. Where are we going?” Batman pondered this for a moment. He decided that he would have to know more before deciding for real. 

“That depends on you. I could take you home right now, or you could tell me everything you know about the bird on your lap.” It was a hard decision, and Dick’s features displayed his turmoil. Bruce waited patiently. This was it, the big test to decide just when and how Dick would find out. If he refused, Bruce could tell him at the right stage of grief. If he complied, that meant that this was the right time.

“Well… It’s always been there. Even when I was a baby, I mean. My mom used to say it got trapped in the hospital room where I was born and never left my side. She used to call me her little robin, flying on the trapeze…” Dick let out a sob, covering his mouth with his hand and squeezing his eyes shut as new tears fell. Bruce desperately wanted to comfort him, but he had absolutely no idea what to do, and to this boy he was a complete stranger. Bruce left it to the cotton ball of feathers leaning into Dick’s face and chirping softly. He had, however, made up his mind as to their destination.

“I.. understand. I have decided that we’re going to my base.” Bruce’s voice was kept professionally trimmed and emotionless, and naturally gravelly. Dick perked up a bit at this.

“Really? Like where you go after missions? And where your gear is? I bet you’ve got all sorts of gadgets there!” It suddenly occurred to Bruce that there were many things at his base that were not meant to be tampered with, and that children were excellent at tampering. He knew he would have to reveal everything to Dick, and most likely tonight. His bat was a patient familiar, but it could only take so much. He had already begun to get fussy over how much time he spent hidden away. The bat was not used to being hidden when Bruce was simply walking around the manor, and time before and after patrol had become it’s only relaxation time. No way was he giving that up, especially when it meant he could once again roam the manor.

“I do, but do not touch anything unless I say otherwise. My tech is, needless to say, dangerous if not properly used.” Dick nodded enthusiastically. Bruce wasn’t sure if he would keep his word, but at least he was interested and wanted to listen. If worse came to worse, he was certain he could catch a kid. It crossed his mind to just tell him now, but he decided against it. Telling him anything before they were in the safety of the base was dangerous. For this reason, he took the discreet route to the base, where no one could track them, and Dick wouldn’t recognize where he was.

“Hey, B?... Why are you helping me?” Bruce hadn’t been expecting the question, and he wasn’t quite sure how to answer. He took a moment to respond, taking a few sharp turns into a more secluded area, heading for the richer part of town. By this route, though, you wouldn’t know it.

“I will explain when we arrive. It is imperative that I explain something first. You cannot tell this information to anyone unless I give you explicit permission. Never assume someone knows or that they are allowed to know.” Dick looked confused, and a little troubled. He clearly wasn’t expecting such serious words.

They drove through the waterfall into the base, and Dick let out an astonished gasp. They entered the main part of the base, stirring up the bats that had perched nearby. It was, suffice to say, an amazing entrance. The bats, architecture, natural caves in the background, and color scheme added to the ambiance.

“Awesome! What do you call this place?” Bruce looked at him sideways. Here they go again… Dick gasped. “You didn’t name this place either?! I can fix that! This is the Batcave now!” Bruce was, needless to say, amused. He’d never tried so hard to keep a smile off of his face. He succeeded, of course.

He barely had time to open the door to let Dick out before his bat worked its way free. It landed on and hung from his outstretched arm, screeching at the others. Dick looked around in increased awe as the hundreds of bats welcomed their king home. He then looked to Bruce, putting two and two together.

“You’re… you’re like me.” Bruce nodded, the bat flying off to hang from a railing, preening its fur that had been matted by being hidden. “What.. Do you know what that means? I mean, I know I’m not normal, but… I never quite understood what was wrong with-”

“Nothing is wrong with you.” Bruce cut him off, voice stern. Dick looked up to him with hopeful eyes. “I can explain more to you, but first, You should know something, and remember you can’t tell anyone.” 

And with that, Batman took off his cowl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I ship a lot of things in the batfam, and I was wondering if I should include ships in this fic. I decided to leave it up to you guys, so please comment if I should, and if so which ones out of the ones that I list. The list is this:  
Superbat (Bruce and Clark)  
Birdflash (Dick and kid flash)  
Jayroy (Jason and Roy Harper)  
Timkon (Tim and the first superboy)  
Damijon (Damian and the second superboy)  
Yes they're all gay, plz don't judge me. If you hate them, I promise I won't put them in, but please let me know in the comments.


	6. a Witch and a Curse

Bruce and Dick now sat in the study, Dick still a bit shocked. It would have amused anyone but Bruce to see how his jaw dropped and he seemed only able to stutter. He liked to believe he hadn’t been past the point of no return long ago, and he definitely wouldn’t cry if Dick was made to go, thank you very much.

“ I know you must have questions, so I’ll do my best to answer them.” Bruce carefully watched Dick’s reaction while looking at his familiar out of the corner of his eye. The bat hung happily from one of three perches discreetly placed around the room, occasionally fluttering around to land on another. The robin was nestled into Dick’s shoulder, apparently sleeping. Bruce realised how tired Dick must be as he felt his own eyelids droop. This would have to be a relatively brief discussion.

“Well…. It’s kinda silly, but I’ve always wondered why you made your voice so weird as batman. Now I’m wondering why you’re still using it.” His face still had traces of confusion and surprise leftover from what had just happened.

“This is actually my real voice. It didn’t seem fit for a cover like Bruce Wayne.” Dick looked thoughtful for a moment and nodded. Then his face turned troubled, and Bruce gave the smallest of frowns.

“I wanna know more about what-who I am.” Dick shuffled in his seat a bit, foot tapping on the ground in anxiety and anticipation. Bruce stifled a sigh before responding. This would not be easy to explain.

“Well, in one word, you’re a witch,” Dick’s face shifted to confusion and intrigue and Bruce cut him off right before he could say anything. “And I know that that’s a lot to take in, but I’ll explain it more. Being a witch is…. Complicated, to say the least. It comes with power and abilities, but also a curse. Bad luck trails witches like a shadow, affecting them and almost everyone around them.”

“Is that why…? And your parents too…” Dick’s complexion gained a green tint as Bruce nodded solemnly. Dick’s hand went to his mouth and Bruce could tell he was holding back tears. It was time to move on to a happier note.

“A witch also has a familiar, a benevolent demon companion that takes the form of an animal,” He noticed that Dick looked a little less troubled, and like he was holding onto the new topic like a rope to pull him out of his reverie, and continued quickly. “Each is unique in both personality and the form they take. This means that every witch is the sole patron of that animal. For example, I am the bat witch. Wizards, however, do not have familiars, and they are immune to the curse. The curse can strike at any time, but it has less power upon a witch that has joined other witches or wizards. Alright, ask your questions.”

“Do you know all the witches? Why don’t I know this already? Who did you learn this from?” Bruce held up a hand to stop him asking ten more questions before he could get a word in edgewise.

“Firstly, no I do not. There are so many in the world, so many of them not knowing who they are, and there’s no way to contact them all. Secondly, there was no one to tell you. No one you knew had any way of knowing who you are, or what that means. Finally, I learned from Alfred. He’s a wise wizard, and he told me anything I ever wanted to know” Dick’s eyes were as wide as saucers.

“ He’s a wizard?! Awesome!” Dick’s voice was quite a bit louder than what Bruce was accustomed to, yet the wonder and excitement in those tired eyes ensured that he would not be reprimanded. Bruce remembered then how exhausted he was, as he saw it reflected in the young boy in front of him. When Dick yawned, stretching his arms to the sky, Bruce knew it was time for bed. He vaguely wondered if he should institute a bedtime, but then remembered that his lack of a normal sleep schedule wouldn’t exactly encourage a kid to keep his.

“I’ll answer your questions, I promise, but I think we should be getting to sleep.” Bruce made his voice gentle, slipping back into Bruce Wayne mode. Dick sighed, standing up.

“Oh, and B?”

“Yes?” Bruce turned to him, still getting used to being greeted so informally, although it truly was a nice break.

“I’d like it better if you used your real voice.” Dick smiled sweetly and headed upstairs. If someone had been there with a high definition camera and zoomed in on Bruce’s face, they would’ve seen a small version of that very same expression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to those who commented! I really appreciate the support and the feedback. I've decided that I will be including ships, but I still have some building of both characters and world before they're introduced. Thank you for reading, and I hope you continue to somehow enjoy this trash.


	7. B, G, and... R?

The next day Bruce received a rather unexpected call. He paused for a moment upon seeing the caller ID, unsure if he should pick up. He decided to answer it, simply because he would know that Bruce had simply ignored him. It was commissioner Gordon.

“Bruce!” Was his opening word. The answer he got was a short grunt. “I think I may have found incriminating evidence! You know, of witches?” Bruce stiffened at his words. When his parents were murdered, Bruce had not been in control of his powers. Really, how could one expect him to be? This was how the commissioner saw things that he should not have, and became convinced that witches had something to do with the murder. Even though that trail had long ago grown cold, he had become a very well meaning witch hunter, in addition to being a police officer.

“Is that so?” was all Bruce could make himself say. Gordon, however, took it as encouragement.

“It is! And get this, It’s tied to the murder of another set of famous parents! In fact, you might want to make sure the kid isn’t listening in right now.” Bruce could not breathe for a moment. What did Gordon know? After all these years, was this how he’d be forced to reveal everything? What could Bruce even say, and what response could he possibly hope for?

Gordon didn’t have the skill to know how strangled Bruce’s responding “Go on.” was, but he himself took note that he might need to work on it more in the future. The fact that only Alfred would have known was irrelevant.

“Well,” Gordon’s overexcited voice crackled through the phone, “I was doing extensive searching of the footage of the whole surrounding area, and I didn’t see anything too aloof. But then, I looked at weather maps and what happened at the precise moment the ropes snapped. There was a small power surge that for some reason only affected the area’s doppler, and they all read that somehow it should be raining and on fire in the circus tent! I’ve seen similar variation at sites of unexplained occurrences, but not something like this. Bruce, we’re dealing with someone very powerful, and very inexperienced.”

“A child?” Bruce was intrigued. Was this Dick’s emotions kickstarting his powers or… something else?

“Possibly, but either way they could be a true threat! I know you’re a skeptic on the whole thing, but you’ve gotta admit this is probably at least some sort of meta human!” Gordon had unwittingly given him the perfect way to dispute his claims while still looking into it.

“In all likelihood that’s exactly what it is. Send me the files you have on it.” Bruce reached to end the call.

“Bruce, wait!”

“Yes?” He was starting to lose patience. He had things to do, a kid to care for.

“It’s my daughter, she says she wants to talk to you, won’t tell me what it is no matter how hard I try. I think she just might want to meet Batman, you know? Anyway, she says she’ll be out walking tonight when you’re on patrol. Let me know if it’s important, okay?” His voice became softer at the end, slight concern hinting through.

“Yes. Of course.” He ended the call, looking up at Dick, who had just walked down the stairs. His bird flew out in front of him, but Bruce hardly noticed it. Dick had an enormous smile on his face, and something hidden behind his back.

“Dick? What do you have there?” Bruce’s tone was wary.

“Well B, I was thinking about what you said, you know, about helping me investigate? Well I was thinking, who could do that better than Batman? So then I got to thinking, Who could help Batman? Not Dick Grayson, right? So I thought, what if I wasn’t Dick Grayson? What if I was-”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Aw, come on! You haven’t even seen my drawing!” He pulled out from behind him and brandished defensively a crude crayon drawing.

“It’s not about a drawing, or what you’d look like or being cool or anything like that. It’s about doing what the police can’t. It’s about protecting people, fighting for what matters. Part of my mission is to protect the defenseless, so no, I’m not sending out a child to fight crime.”

“Other superheroes have sidekicks!” Dick could tell Bruce was going to cut him off again, “But that’s beside the point, B. I wanna go out and fight in honor of my parents. I wanna put who killed them in jail, and I wanna help people. I can’t just sit by and hope the police solve it, or that they’ll save everyone in this city or stop all these villains. I know I can’t either, that I can’t save everyone, but I can help. I can, we can, do things they just can’t. You say you’re not the hero they deserve, but you are what they need. Well then, don’t you think they deserve more help?”

Bruce had no idea how to respond. On one hand, this was a child. On another, he was correct on every point. It was the fact that he would almost certainly head out on his own if Bruce didn’t help that tipped the scales.

“Alright,” Dick’s eyes lit up, “But there are rules. Important rules, for your safety and everyone else’s, and there will be rigorous training of your mind, powers, and body.” Dick nodded vigorously as his robin made wide, swooping figure eights around the room. The bat watched it from its perch as Bruce took Dicks drawing. “And we’re adding some actual gear to this, understand?” Bruce’s mouth twitched at the childish annotations to the colorful costume, “What are you calling yourself?”

Dick’s eyes could not have gotten brighter as he spoke, almost breathlessly, “Robin.”


	8. Talent

Over the next 2 weeks, Dick went to the cave regularly to flip from the beams and take on the obstacle course. He had been on the trapeze most of his life, but that did not fully justify how rapidly he improved. The rest of his natural talent could be explained as just that, even if it wasn’t natural to some. Bruce had explained it to him when he asked at breakfast one morning.

“Getting pretty good, don’t ‘cha think?” Dick stuffed a bite of pancake in his mouth, legs kicking under the table and robin pecking at his plate. Bruce’s bat hung from the windowsill, fast asleep, and he couldn’t help but marvel at how happy the boy had turned out to be. Having that cheerful of a smile, despite the recent tragedy, was a miracle to Bruce. Dick was nothing like him, and no thought was more reassuring to him.

“Mmm?” Bruce hummed lazily, drinking his coffee. It struck him then just how…. Domestic this all was. It almost seemed like a proper family. Almost. Dick’s smile, although filled with true joy, hid hints of deep sadness at the edges. He was having nightmares nightly, and sometimes he would just get sad for no apparent reason. Bruce supposed it was because something triggered a memory. He cried more than a normal child would, or any child deserved to. Still, Dick was stronger than he ever would’ve suspected.

“Yup! I did the whole course in less than a minute yesterday!” Dick grinned brightly. Bruce, who could do the course in 40 seconds, was pleasantly surprised. He certainly hadn’t improved this rapidly when he started training. He had a suspicion as to why Dick was doing so well, and it had less to do with his circus upbringing than one might think.

“Acrobatics is your forte, then?” Dick nodded, his mouth too full of pancake to speak. “I guess it must be your Talent, then.” Bruce’s emphasis on the word “Talent” was not lost on Dick, who gave him a questioning glance before speaking.

“Why’d ya say ‘Talent’ like that?”

“It’s a witch thing,” Dick’s face became noticeably more serious and the robin stopped eating to look at Bruce as he continued. “It’s a magical ability that you don’t have to try to use. It’s ingrained, natural, a Talent. Mine is superior hearing, and it appears yours is acrobatics.” Dick nodded, so lost in thought that he missed his mouth and got syrup covered pancake on his cheek. It was then that Alfred came in, holding a napkin.

“Master Dick, please try to eat your food, not wear it.” His voice held more endearment and amusement than anger, but with just enough sass to let Dick know he meant it. Alfred had grown to care for the boy deeply, yet whatever he felt was only half of the attachment Bruce had, even if it scared him to admit it. He had never become so quickly infatuated before.

“So Bruce, when are you gonna help me? I mean, I appreciate everything but…” Dick gripped his sleeve far too tightly, a nervous habit that Bruce had noticed. “They’re… He’s.. still out there, even after what he did…” The anger and pain still looked unnatural on his face, even if Bruce saw it every day. Seeing that expression still made his heart clench in ways he hadn’t felt since before he could remember.

“You should know that I’m sparing no expense on the investigation. I’m using the police, the computers, even magic to search for clues. Something will come up.” Bruce could only hope that his words were comforting. Dick gave a sad nod and his bird flew up to sit on his shoulder. It was strange dealing with a child, surreal really. It seemed not so long ago he’d been a child himself. 

”That being said, and acknowledging your progress, it’s time to start a new type of training. Your body is the easiest training. Now, it’s time to train your magic.” Dick’s head shot up, spilling food again in the process. 

“I should think not, Master Bruce.” Alfred spoke up, once again cleaning Dick’s face. “Such training will come soon, of course, but you have neglected the most important training for him. The first stage of mental training, manners.” Dick scowled fidgeting and pushing Alfred away before he could finish. Alfred raised an eyebrow and Bruce swallowed his sip heavily, setting his mug down. “I understand your frustration Master Dick, but you have only served to prove my point.”

Bruce sighed, rubbing his temples. “ I understand Alfred, you’re right, as always.”

“Anytime, master Bruce.” Dick laughed at the small smirk on Alfred’s face. “First step, table manners,” Alfred wiped up the last of the mess, stopping at the doorway. “I assume you can handle this on your own?” It was Alfred’s way of assuring him that he could do this, a promise veiled in a question.

“Of course Alfred, thank you.” Bruce looked over at Dick to find 2 pairs of curious eyes gazing back at him expectantly, the robin was back. “I’ll make you a deal, for everything you learn about manners and how to be my new ward, you learn one thing about combat. What do you say?”

“I’d say you’ve got a deal, B.”


	9. The Mind

“Ugh! I can’t do it!”

“Yes, you can. You just need to be patient.” Bruce was tired. It had been a long day, and a long week. It started with teaching Dick the basics of how to be Bruce Wayne’s ward, and now it was time to teach him to be Batman’s sidekick. The first matter of business was to teach Dick to control his magic. They’d been trying all day, with little luck. Dick had never understood his powers, or really tried to use them before. That meant that each attempt was very taxing, and he was understandably frustrated at the slow progress.

“You’re wrong. We’ve been trying all day, B! Nothing else has taken me this long. Maybe I just can’t do it.” Dick stood up from the meditative pose he had been in, pacing and scowling.

“You’re trying too hard. The other things I’ve taught you may have been difficult and tedious, but none were quite so… boring. You’re mind is used to wandering, catching onto things that are important. This requires your mind to be still, which I doubt it has any practice in.” Bruce tried to be reasonable.

Dick sighed. “I can’t.”

“I told you, it’s just-”

“I said, no” Dick’s voice was dangerously close to a shout.

“Listen, Dick, just picture your mind as-”

“No, you don’t get it!! My mind... it can’t be quiet. If... if I try to be quiet then.. Then all I hear is..” Dick’s voice started as a shout, but now it was just above a whisper as his back hit the wall and he slid to the floor, “is their screams..” He buried his head in his knees and wrapped his arms around himself, shaking as soft cries echoed around the room. His robin landed on his shoulder but he only sobbed harder.

Bruce’s heart was becoming a painful knot. He couldn’t not do something, but what…? He put his hand on the boy’s shoulder, and the robin looked at it with a conflicted gaze. It gave the bat a flash of a look before Dick threw himself around Bruce, crying into his shoulder. Bruce hadn’t been surprised in a long time before Dick arrived, but a tally of the number of times this small child had achieved it wouldn’t fit on any wall. 

Bruce rocked gently back and forth, wrapping his arms gently around the small form latched onto his torso. He would never have known what to do if he couldn’t remember how Alfred used to comfort him. The bat flew down and landed next to the bird, who pulled him into a group hug with Dick and Bruce.

“Thank you, Kiollik.” Bruce sent a mental message to his familiar. He never used his name unless it was important, and he wasn’t sure anything had ever been so important.

“Of course.” Was the response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so sorry this is the shortest chapter ever... I tried to put the next one in at the end, but it went against the flow of the story, and I didn't want to stuff it with filler. Anyway, the next chapter will be coming out very shortly.


	10. The Commissioner's Daughter

Bruce stood at the location where they were to meet, watching a redheaded girl of about 20 shiver in the wind. He wanted to make a proper Batman style entrance, but he supposed he should have accounted for the fact that it was Dick’s first night out as the new sidekick: Robin. The overexcited child ran up behind her, successfully surprising her and tapped her shoulder.

“Should’ve dressed warmer.” Dick’s smile could be seen from space with it’s brightness.

To her credit, she only faltered for a moment. “Says the kid not wearing any pants.” He laughed, and Bruce wasn’t sure how he could be a sidekick to the Batman. “Who are you anyway?”

“Robin! I’m Batman’s sidekick.” He put his fists on his hips and grinned.

“Really? But you’re so… not batman.”

He stuck his tongue out indignantly. “Ever heard of contrast?”

Bruce felt this a good time to cut in, stepping in beside Robin. “You wanted to talk?” She actually jumped this time.

“Ye-Yes, that’s um, that’s why I’m here.” She stuttered nervously.

“Well?”

“Well, first of all I want you to know that this isn’t about a case, or my Dad.”

“It’s not?” Dick cut in.

“I assumed it wasn’t, I’m certain the commissioner would’ve told me if it wasn't about you. Not to mention that he said that you wouldn’t tell him what this is about.”

“Y-yea, ok I’m just gonna get right to the point. This is probably gonna sound crazy, but I feel like you’re not just a normal human. I mean, you’re not a normal person anyway, but I mean you can do things. Like a meta, but not quite the same. A-and that bird has something to do this.” She pointed to the robin perched on the wire behind them, and Dick’s eyes widened. It was obvious that she hadn’t come to this conclusion for free, her eyes had heavy bags and her hand shook.

Bruce tried to cut her off, but she continued. “A-and I.. I think maybe… You’re.. A witch, aren’t you? Not evil, like my dad preaches about hunting, but something good, something human, with free choice to be good or bad. It’s.. It’s all confusing but.. I just want someone to tell me I’m not crazy.” Bruce was thoroughly rattled, but it was nothing compared to Dick. The small boy was nearly vibrating in an attempt to contain his excitement. Batman, however, wanted to know more.

“Why.” It was not a question, nor was it clear if he was asking why she thought this or why she was asking. In both truth and function, it was both.

“I… I think I’m one too.” Tears came to her eyes as she reached for the back of her sweater, pulling out a chameleon that was looking at both Robin and Batman. Dick looked at Bruce, eagerly asking for permission, and damn it if Bruce said he could resist those puppy dog eyes. Not to mention that Barbara was crying, and who else could give her proper comfort?

Bruce nodded, and Dick’s Robin flew to his shoulder. “You don’t have to cry, being a witch is awesome! How’s she looking in two directions at once? That’s so cool! What can you do? Is she faster of slower than a normal chameleon?” Dick ran around her excitedly with every question, then his eyes lit up and he gave her a serious look. “Do you eat bugs?”

She was startled enough to laugh and throw out a quip. “Only if you eat worms. Creative hero name, by the way.”

“Hey!” He stuck his tongue out at her again, and Bruce couldn’t help but marvel at Dick’s infectious joy. This small boy was incredible, and to think Bruce thought he was saving a child, and here it was the other way around. He wasn’t sure what would happen with Barbara, and it would be difficult to tell her father, but she needed them, and they were better off with her. She made Dick laugh, and he needed as much of that as possible.

“So B, can she stay?” There they were again, those puppy eyes.

Bruce sighed for what felt like the millionth time. “Alright, get in the Batmobile then Barbara, Robin.”

Barbara raised her eyebrow. “First, it’s Babs. Second, the Batmobile?”

Dick laughed. “My idea, though now it's mostly just the most high tech family car on the market.” Bruce’s movement’s stuttered for a fraction of a second while getting in the car. A family? What a strange idea.


	11. The Old Hunter

Barbara quickly assumed a place with them, often joining them for meals and learning as much as she could about witchcraft. It became clear that her Talent was multitasking, much as the chameleon can look two ways at once. She was especially happy to learn right alongside Dick, who had become a fast friend to her. However, she did have her father, and although he unwittingly hunted her kind, she deeply loved him. It would have to be confronted at some point, Bruce thought, why not now?

“Bar- Babs, I’d like a word with you.” was all he said before getting to the point.

“Yes, is something wrong?”

“I’m afraid so. Your father deserves the truth,” Babs visibly stiffened, and Bruce rushed to assuage her. “He is a good man, Babs. He only needs all the information and I am certain he will make the right decision. I would not tell you to do this if I wasn’t sure if you were safe. You’re his daughter, he loves you and will listen to you.”

Babs nodded hesitantly. “I.. I know that. I’ve known that all along..” tears trailed down her cheeks, “It’s just, so hard-” She cut herself off with heavy sobs. Bruce tried to reach for her arm, but she pulled it out of reach. Bruce was not offended, he of all people knew that it was hard to be entirely rational sometimes. He would simply have to try a different approach.

“I want to tell you something, something about your father. Is that alright?” Barbara peered through her fingers and nodded slowly, still crying. “When we met, I was just a kid. I had just lost my parents in a horrible way, and he was first on the scene. He did his best to help me, and he didn’t stop there. He spent his life cleaning up the GCPD so that other people, other kids, like me could be helped too. I owe my abilities to trust, socialise, and quite possibly love, however limited they may be, to your father and Alfred Pennyworth. Babs, if there is anyone who will always love you unconditionally, it is that man. You’ve brought us a little more light in the darkness. Please, let us help you and your father out of yours.”

Barbara’s cries had been reduced to the occasional soft sniffle and a few stray tears. “You’re pretty good at that, you know.” She said in a scratchy voice, rubbing the drips off her face.

“Good at what?”

“Speeches. You know something? Batman’s not so scary after all. Come on, let’s go see my dad.” She stretched her stiff limbs and started to walk away.

“Are you sure?” Bruce fell into step beside her.

“Don’t think I could bear to wait.”Her eyes were scared and tired, but there was a definite determination behind them. Not fierce or raging, but slow, steady, and stable. Too stable to knock down.

When they arrived at the Gordon household, they both got out. It had been a tense, silent ride, yet still with that ever present will in her eyes, almost a tangible presence. In an untrained witch, this would manifest itself in small scale strange occurances, but Barbara had long since learned to master her emotions.

It was Bruce who knocked, 3 times, solid and heavy. They didn’t mention the need for the visit until they were inside, busying themselves with small talk.

“So, what brings you here? You don’t usually come inside to drop her off.” The commissioner spoke first. Babs tried to hide behind her mug of tea.

“It’s about what she wanted to tell me before. I’m afraid it’s a rather important matter.” Bruce began.

“I’m all ears.” Gordon put down his coffee and leaned forward in his chair, assuming his best sympathetic and accepting face.

Bruce sighed. “Well, I’d like to say that your daughter is very smart, figuring all this out and coming to find me. It was truly unexpected-”

“I’m a witch.” Barbara’s voice was barely a whisper, barely above the surface of her tea, yet it was enough to silence the room.

“....What?” The commissioner spoke.

“I am too.” It was Bruce this time. “I know it’s a lot to swallow.”

“I’m sorry Dad…. I.. I let you down-” The commissioner cut her off with a hug, releasing her quickly but holding her gaze.

“No. You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m sorry that I was so cruel. I.. admit I’m not entirely sure what all of this means, but I know that I messed up, and I hurt you. I should be sorry.” He turned to Bruce, “I’m sorry to you too. I should never have told that kid from that ally that an entire race was evil, but you’re not a kid anymore. It’s been far too long, Bruce. You should have told me. And don’t start spewing excuses, I know why, and I know that in the end I carry the most blame, but you’re not the only one hurt here tonight.”

“Then,” Babs cut in, “ I guess it’s mutual. But hey, this is a family after all. And don’t either of you go saying it isn’t, you two have been family ever since that night. This family is motley, and imperfect, and the swear jar gets my quarter because damn is it fucked up, but would you really want a different one?”

Bruce thought a while about it. He missed his parents more than anything, but where would he be without Dick and the Gordons? With Alfred as just a butler? No, he decided, he didn’t want another family, he only wished that it could have 2 long lost members in it to guide him. After all, were all of these people really worth the two of them?


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a trigger warning. This chapter discusses how the manner in which Damian was conceived affected Bruce emotionally, do not read if you are sensitive to such things. 
> 
> To those that do noy have an issue, i hope you're enjoying the story and thanks for reading my trash! :)

It was 2 years later when it happened. Dick had been out too late again with his best friend, Wally West. He creeped through the door silently, shutting it and tiptoeing inside. Dick was expecting to be confronted, lectured, punished sufficiently, but the room was empty. All he found was a cup of stale tea and a strongly worded note from Alfred that mentioned that the butler had called it a night some time ago. 

Confusion mounted in Dick’s head as he, in turn, mounted the stairs. With each step, he was more certain that on the next Bruce would jump out at him, or more likely become visible in the shadows. However, as Dick reached the top of the great staircase and peered around, no mysterious lurkers revealed themselves.

Where could he possibly be? From the note Alfred had left, he was none the wiser, and it was wholly unlike him to go out on his own when Dick was out and shouldn’t be. Then again, maybe he did go out? After all, he was solo for years, long before Robin and Batgirl were thoughts on the horizon. Bruce was not someone that people worried about, whether or not they truly should, as Dick had learned over the years, but worrying was Dick’s specialty.

He froze when the door creaked open, mind going into the analytical mode Bruce has irreversibly installed inside it. The door opened slowly and without a lot of messing with the lock. No amatuer could pick that lock which meant that this person was either supposed to be there or… Dick’s mind cut off when he registered the scene below him.

It was Bruce, that much was certain, but not like he ever allowed the others to see him. He looked downright disheveled, a word that felt strange to ascribe to his guardian, yet he could find no other. He had left the door open to the hearsay of the wind, much to it’s apparent chagrin as it squealed on its hinges. His clothing was ripped and crooked, his posture nearly bent double. His steps were uneven, half hearted shuffles as he stumbled to the couch, and for a moment Dick thought he may be drunk, but he did not truly get drunk on a regular basis, nor did he smell of alcohol. 

The door closed itself behind him with a wave of his hand, clearly an afterthought. Dick had the strong sense that he shouldn’t be there, seeing this. There was something deeply personal about this, and, as Dick was still only 12, he probably shouldn’t know about it. Still, something compelled him to stay a little longer, perhaps the vain notion that there was something he could do. Then something happened that Dick was utterly unprepared for.

Bruce’s hand went to his face, palm covering his mouth as his other hand pulled his bat out of his pocket. The bat possibly an ever sorrier sight than Bruce. It lay limp in his hand, the only true sign of life being the small movements of its chest as it breathed, Bruce wrapped in in both of his hands and buried his face in the bat’s fur. He was... shaking? Dick did a double take as he realised the truth, Bruce was crying. Tears that had been begging to fall for years, quiet sobs ripped from him by years of pain topped with fresh grief.

Dick’s robin couldn’t stand to watch and so flew up to his room, the very thing Dick wanted to do. Still, the strange urge to stay just a little longer was there, and it was nothing if not convincing. He peered over the banister at the broken man before him, unsure of what to do, what to ask, what to say. 

He walked away quietly and slowly, his mind swarming. Confusion ensured that he would not fall asleep for a long while, yet it was still long before Bruce’s slow footfalls could b heard heading to bed. As Dick lie awake, he could come to only 3 conclusions. The first was, as it seemed he would not be punished, going out had been worth it. The second was that the est way to help Bruce with this new trauma was the same way that it had always been, being there for him, friendly and supportive, If he wanted Dick to know, then hr would. Approaching him bluntly was not an option.

Dick was still young, and so could not known what had happened that night. He would not know, in fact, until many years later, when he met the fiery young boy that had come of that treacherous night with Talia Al Ghul.


	13. Wally West

Visits with Wally became more and more frequent over the 10 months, and Dick could be seen with him more days than not. Bruce had never had many friends, and he supposed that their closeness was a good thing. In part, it meant that Dick was happy. In another, it was yet another reason that Dick was different than him, better. Yes, it was good to have friends, and Wally was one of the good ones.

He was a good enough friend that Bruce had, although begrudgingly, allowed him to learn of their identities. He did not, however, know of their abilities. Bruce should have known that eventually the happiness of telling Wally his identity wouldn’t be enough for Dick, but he never expected it to come up in the way that it did. 

“Hi Bruce! Where’s Dick?” Babs asked, sliding down the stair rail and landing next to him.

“At a party with the young justice team.” Bruce replied in his usual monotone.

“His birthday’s coming up, you know. Got a present yet?”

Bruce looked away from the batcomputer to face her. “I know, and no, I don’t.”

“Well then come on, I’ve gotta get one too.” She picked up her purse and turned to the door. Bruce knew he didn’t really have a choice. Once Barbara set her mind to it, it was a done deal. He’d almost solved the case anyway, and he really should get Dick a present. What to get was an entirely different matter, but he guessed that he’d find something while they were out. He only had another week to decide.

It wasn’t long before they had stopped at 3 stores in the mall and Barbara had picked out a gift from each. Hidden in plastic bags were assorted bird perches and toys, a couple of video games, and some new clothes that she thought he’d like. Despite her heavy load, Bruce’s hands were empty, and it was becoming increasingly frustrating to him. 

He sighed, “Can’t we just put my name on one of yours?”

Babs looked up from her iced tea that was more juice than tea to glare at him, “Absolutely not!” Her voice softened, “Listen, Bruce, the only reason that you haven’t found anything for him is that you’re looking for the perfect thing. You and I both know that that boy deserves the world, but if you keep looking for perfect, you’ll find nothing. Don’t worry, Bruce, it just means you care.” She smiled.

“I know, but it doesn’t make finding a gift any easier.” Bruce’s returning expression most would see as blank, but Babs had learned to read the subtle gratefulness on his face.

“Well, look over here, he was telling me about how he really liked this game, i bet he’ll like the merch as well.” Thank goodness for Barbara, Bruce thought, he’d have to get her something great on her birthday, too.

He had just bent down to look at the assorted toys when he heard a familiar voice.

“Then she said ‘those aren’t mine!’” The sentence was followed by a chorus of laughter finishing with a snort that made them both laugh. Bruce was over his surprise when he saw Wally dash, at human speeds, with Dick in tow. He made to approach them as they went by, but was stopped by Barbara’s hand on his shoulder. He turned and she gave him a knowing look. Had she seen something he hadn’t?

“You’re crazy!” Dick jokingly accused as they stopped not far from where the others were.

“Totally insane, but who is more crazy, the fool who’s crazy, or the fool who loves him?” The question threw Bruce off, to say the least. What surprised him more, however, was what happened next. Dick rolled his eyes, grinned, and pecked Wally on the cheek before running off. For a moment both Wally and Bruce were stunned, but when Wally ran after him, laughing, Bruce came out of his stupor. 

All he could do was stare, baffled, at Barbara’s face of poorly concealed amusement. “You knew?” he asked, and she burst out laughing.

“Honestly, I’m still surprised you didn’t.” Was her joyous response. His brow furrowed, and she looked him in the eye, adopting a more serious tone. “He’s happy, Bruce. So happy, he didn’t even know you were there. It’s hard to see, but if you look out that window, there’s a little bird all but dancing in the air. He’s growing up, and he’s happy.” Sure enough, when he squinted through the far away glass, there was Dick’s robin, happier than ever.

Bruce sighed, both of them returning their gaze to the two boys now almost out of sight down the mall hallway. “I know, and It’s what scares me the most.”


	14. Dick's Birthday

Bruce and Barbara both agreed that a confrontation would only serve to send both boys into a spiral of panic, but how to approach the subject was difficult to decide. Eventually, however, they came up with a plan, deciding that if he told them beforehand they would call it off. Bruce could only hope that it would be well received, as today was the day. It was March 20th, Dick’s Birthday.

Dick had decided to celebrate at an arcade with just Bruce, Babs, and some friends from the young justice team. Wally, of course, was among them. When Bruce looked at that smiling boy in front of him, surrounded by friends, laughter, and colorful lights, he could not believe he had once worried about him becoming another Bruce. The knowledge that he was growing up, that one day this wonderful child would leave the nest, was a very hard pill to swallow.

Dick ran around, playing game after game and stockpiling an impressive heap of tickets. It was when he had disappeared from view to play a game in another room that Babs approached him.

“You all set, Bruce?” She said

“Yes, however I’m not certain that this is the best plan.”

“Bruce, this is a matter of the heart, and you and I both know those aren’t your strong suit. I made this plan, and I guarantee that it will get a good end result. Plus, it’s too late to go back now.” She was a good person to go to for assurance, Bruce thought. She really was like a chameleon, wise, thoughtful, and blunt. 

The kids were called back to the table, the cake was served, and subsequently devoured. Thankfully, none made it onto clothes or the floor. Dick was not as much of a messy eater as he had once been, galas and public functions had made certain of that much. Bruce took a moment to watch Dick talk and laugh, another year gone by. Whatever happened to the boy he’d taken on that day? 

“Take a picture.” It was Barbara, approaching from behind. “It’ll last longer.”

“No. I’d rather remember this.” He stopped himself then. The truth was that he knew no picture could capture the magic in that smile, something more powerful than anything flowing through his veins. He looked up at his bat, hidden in the rafters near the robin, and he looked back. It was the simplest of conversations, but just the reassurance he needed.

“Now that Wally’s eaten the entire cake,” Artemis began, “Can we do presents?”

“Oooh presents!” M'gann’s enthusiasm was infectious as always.

“Alright, who’s first?” Dick asked. Artemis had gotten him a Star Wars shirt, Conner video games, M’gann a bag of various things she thought he would like, such as a set of dice with more sides than Bruce knew they could have. Zatanna and Barbara’s presents were opened, then Alfred’s, and finally Bruce was the only one left.

Dick looked a little disappointed when he saw an envelope, and some of his teammates looked awkward at Bruce’s apparent lack of effort. He pulled the card out and opened it, frowning at first when he saw that all it held was writing. He read it once, twice, three times, each time eyes growing wider. Before Bruce knew it, Dick had tossed the card away, throwing himself at Bruce and latching onto him.

“Thank you so much, thank you dad.” Dick whispered to him without thinking. 

“You promise you’re happy with him?” Bruce spoke even quieter.

“I am, dad, I am.”

The card fell to the floor and closed, hiding 4 simple words. 

“You can tell him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, just me saying hi for the first time in forever! Sorry this is so short. As always, comments and suggestions as well as letting me know mistakes I've made is always welcome and encouraged. I'm always looking to improve, which is hard to do without feedback. Thanks again to everyone who did comment, and I hope that you enjoy and keep reading! :)


	15. Chapter 15

All things considered, Wally took the news pretty well. He was shocked at first, of course, but it was a matter of seconds before he accepted the truth. 

“Well, you’re still you, right? I mean, that’s really all that matters, if you ask me.” Was all he said on the matter. Dick had smiled and thrown his arms around the older boy, the robin snuggling himself in between them comfortably. At Wally’s laugh, the issue was resolved.

They were still together 5 years later, a rather impressive accomplishment for their ages. They fought sometimes, of course, but were always able to resolve their issues. Bruce admired them for this, he had never kept a relationship more than 2 years himself. 

As Dick got older, he claimed more and more independence for himself, and was almost ready to move out of the manor. Bruce had discussed various college and career options with him, but neither were sure how to approach the subject of Robin. The way Bruce saw it, there were 3 options. Dick would cease to fight crime, Robin and Batman would no longer be a team, or Dick would assume a new alias. All of the above reminded Bruce how much time had passed, and although he’d never say it, scared him half to death. Even though Dick rarely ever called him Dad, Dick was his son, and he’d be damned if he was going to let him move out with no fuss.

Barbara was excelling, both as Batgirl and a civilian. She held a stable job at the GCPD, working under her father and investigating cases too small scale or unrelated for Batman. She told him any information he asked for on her cases, of course, but Bruce had long since trusted her to catch anything suspicious. Her Talent, it was revealed, was multitasking. She could accomplish 4 complex tasks at once, on a bad day. This skill made her an excellent investigator, analysist, and vigilante. Although she did not live at the manor, she was so ingrained in the family that Alfred had begun to call her ‘Mistress Barbara Gordon.’ Every time he did, however, she teased him for being so formal. Her lighthearted yet sassy nature made her easy to get along with, and her appreciation for quiet was something that Bruce had not received from Dick until the last few years he’d stayed at the manor.

On the whole, they were happy. It was on a night when Barbara was with her father and Dick spending time with his old young justice team that it happened. A petty criminal had run down a dark alley, the alley. Bruce did not hesitate as he chased the man down, leaping from the batmobile and running after him. The man ran into a warehouse containing 5 armed men ready to protect him. Okay, so more than a petty criminal. Still, he had the situation dealt with in under 15 minutes.

The scene he saw when he returned to his vehicle was nothing if not amusing. He was shocked to see 3 of his hubcaps removed, and a small boy still working on the last. The first thing he noticed was how loose his grubby red hoodie hung on his body. From what he could see of the boy, he was far too skinny for his size, though his size was quite small. His dirty face was framed by greasy devil’s curls, and his small fists worked at a car iron. 

Bruce was certain that he had not yet made himself known, but that didn’t seem to stop the boy from noticing him. His face went from frustrated and determined to defensive and wild as he sprung to his feat, landing neatly in a poor fighting stance, fists up and ready to fight or flee. His eyes held a certain defiant dodginess, and his head was close to his shoulders, as though he was trying to arch his back. His eyes reflected a fraction of the light from a streetlamp, and Bruce half expected him to hiss.

“That’s my car.” Bruce stated the obvious.

“So? Like I didn’t know.” His voice wavered, yet the force behind his words could have made it hard to notice.

“You’ve got some nerve.” Bruce allowed the slightest hint of appreciation seep into his voice, though the boy didn’t seem to detect it.

“You left a fancy car in crime alley, what did you think would happen?” A sassy child, indeed. He was obviously homeless, and although Bruce had incredible sympathy for him, he was one of hundreds. Despite his boldness and their meeting, it was simply unfair to only help him. He must have noticed the subtle shift to Bruce’s body language when he decided this because something happened that made Bruce stop.

A mewl came from a nearby trash can, and a matted red tabby gracefully leapt off of the can, taking its time in walking up behind the boy and slinking in front of him, rubbing against his ankle. The cat’s piercing amber fixed him in it’s gaze, daring him to make a move. The hair on it’s back stood up slightly, mirroring the boy’s stance. 

Bruce hardly needed more indicators of the truth, yet it was still somewhat difficult to accept. He could no longer, in good conscience, send the boy back onto the streets of Gotham. He had already begun to feel the same sort of ache in his chest that he did when Dick or Babs were hurt or in danger. Well, he supposed, there was only one thing for it.

“I’ll only ask this once, so think about your answer carefully. Are you hungry?”


	16. Jason Todd

Bruce sat with the still unnamed boy on a park bench. He had bought 3 cheeseburgers, fries, and drinks, and the boy was already done his first sandwich, while Bruce had barely begun eating. The boy had shown great resistance to getting into the car, so Bruce had simply helped him reattach the hubcaps before they walked to a local burger joint. The owner had been surprised, to say the least, to take Batman’s order, but happily obliged. The thing that struck him the most about the boy was how on edge he was, as though every second could be the one that Bruce jumps at him.

“Can I know your name?” The boy jumps at his words, but recovers quickly.

“No.” was the blunt response. Bruce sighed.

“I want to help you.”

“You aren’t so egotistical to think you’re the first, are you?”

Bruce gave this due thought. “I’d like to think I’m a bit different than most-”

“Of course you are, most full grown men aren’t emo ninja furries.” The boy continued eating his sandwich as though smack talking Batman was the most normal thing in the world. Bruce had to marvel for a second at this kid’s guts, did he know who he was talking to?

He recovered quickly, “I was going to say, I have unique resources that I think might help you specifically.”

“Great, now you’re gonna start spewing all that ‘you’re a special snowflake’ crap.” The boy’s face seemed to be perpetually angry as he shoved his straw into his mouth, drinking his root beer far too quickly. His shoulders were still hunched as though threatened, and his cat sat next to him, quietly putting some distance between him and Bruce.

“I just want your name. If you give me that much, I could open so many doors for you, and I doubt anyone else has done even this much for you.”

The boy stood up, crushing and tossing his empty cup, jamming his fists into his hoodie pockets. “Jason. Todd. Happy?” 

Bruce nodded. “Well, come with me.”

“And why the fuck would I do that?” A wild blaze took over Jason’s eyes, and Bruce heard his heartbeat pick up rapidly. What was one thing that he knew could overcome fearful apprehension? Well, this was the cat witch, why not try curiosity? Amusing, curiosity saving the cat.

“What, you don’t want to know?” Bruce turned around, looking over his shoulder in a manner that he knew to seem alluring and mysterious. Keeping up appearances as Bruce Wayne did have its benefits, after all.

“Know what?” Jason was still skeptical, but Bruce could see the flash of intrigue in his eyes and knew he had taken the bait, now time to set the hook. For the boy’s own good, of course.

“Everything.” Bruce’s voice was grim. He could almost see the wheels turning inside Jason’s head as the boy debated his options, finally seeming to make a decision.

“I wanna see something more solid than that. You said I could trust you. Prove it.” His eyes narrowed skeptically, and his stance was defensive, open for both confrontation or evasion. Bruce hesitated before responding.

“Very well.” His bat flew out of it’s hidden pocket under the cape, landing on his shoulder and peering at Jason with a neutrally intrigued expression. 

“You’ve got a trained bat?” Jason seemed unimpressed. “If that’s all, then I’m leaving.”

“And here I was, thinking you were perceptive.” It was not Bruce who spoke, but his familiar. A normal bystander would here only the screech of a bat, but although witches would also hear that, it was but background voice to the surprisingly deep tones of the small mammal.

Jason’s eyes went wide, and his mouth opened and closed repeatedly. His cat, at least, seemed to be relatively coherent. “So unfair,” He purred, “How could we say no?” Jason looked to the batmobile that was waiting for them with an anxious yet determined gaze, his cat subtly leaning against his leg for reassurance.

“Ah fuck it,” he finally conceded, “Fine.”


	17. The Stray

Jason was silent during the entire ride to the manor, fists clutching his sleeves and aura wavering the entire time. Bruce appreciated the silence, not entirely sure how to approach the situation, but keeping an ear trained to his rapid heartbeat. He had to help Jason, and he was going to.

Jason’s face barely changed when they entered the cave through the waterfall, though it changed back quickly. His eyes and those of his cat darted around the room, lingering on possible exits and points of interest. Bruce stopped the batmobile, and Jason managed to escape the car before him. The call that Bruce’s bat let out as he flew into the cave was something that was a greeting without words, and the resounding cries of the normal bats were understandable only to Bruce and his familiar. Alfred walked down the stairs wearing a skeptical expression.

“I see you’ve done it again? Tell me, master Bruce, what happened the last time you didn’t tell me?” Bruce winced as he recalled when he had first invited Barbara to the cave. He had forgotten to tell Alkfred that she was coming, and although he had, being Alfred, already known, it did not save Bruce from a lecture. 

“Could you at least use codenames?”

“If you want to pretend that you weren’t about to tell him, well I’ve long since learned that it’s useless to try to stop you fooling yourself.” Jason’s lips quirked up slightly, and Bruce wondered how Alfred was so good with kids. Bruce sighed and removed his cowl, peering over to where the cat had it’s watchful gaze trained on him from its perch on Jason’s shoulder. It seemed only to scoff when it recognized the celebrity’s face. “If you come with me, I’ll let you choose a room, and you can tell me your name, if you wish.”

“I can choose?” Jason seemed reluctant, yet interested, and it was unclear if he was talking about a bedroom or the disclosure of his name.

“Wait.” Jason stiffened when Bruce called him, turning around with just a dash of panic in his eyes, “You can leave at any time, and I won’t go after you if you don’t want.” The last part wasn’t entirely true, if Jason was hurt he wouldn’t care what the boy wanted, but it seemed to reassure Jason to some extent anyway. His face relaxed into something in between hesitance, determination, and calm, and he nodded before following a patient Alfred into the manor.

Jason chose the open room with the loudest sound system, which he discovered by turning all of the room’s speakers up to max one at a time, each playing a song that was unclear with the volume. This was not at all fun for Bruce’s advanced hearing, and he may or may not have broken a few glasses because the noise shocked him. Once Jason had claimed the room, he shut and locked the door, presumably asleep.

Bruce was not prepared for what happened not 20 minutes after Jason locked himself away. Dick walked through the front door, laughing and taking off his jacket. Bruce looked up at him, and he raised an eyebrow.

“What happened Bruce?” Dick went into business mode. Bruce sighed. Where to begin?

“Master Bruce has picked up another stray.” Alfred chimed in.

“And here I was thinking 7 years sober was long enough.” Dick crossed his arms with a faintly amused smile, and Bruce almost had to stop himself from spitting out his drink. “Ah well,” Dick continued, “Who is it this time?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey again! Sorry this is so short, I've been trying to make up for it with frequent updates. Constructive criticism, comments, kudos, and just your reading are all always welcome and appreciated. Thank you for reading, you absolute queen of a human being! :)


	18. Chapter 18

Alfred woke Jason up the next morning to find that he had been sleeping on top of the bookshelf with one leg hanging off. His cat was right beside him, and it watched as the butler walked in, waking Jason up itself.

Jason didn’t make nearly as much mess when he ate as Dick used to, but Bruce did have to stop him from eating too much. As much as he would like to get more weight on the boy’s bones, overfilling a starving stomach can be dangerous. Jason’s face contorted when Bruce took his plate away, and Bruce felt the need to justify.

“If you eat too much you’ll throw up. There will be plenty of food, I promise.” 

“You’ve really been piling those up.” Jason snapped. Bruce Didn’t know what to say to that, so he remained silent, deep in thought. It was hard to accept that this child before him had spent his whole life learning not to trust anyone, and that everyone would let him down. Thankfully, Dick was better with this sort of thing.

“He fulfilled every one he made me.” the 17 year old put in.

“Then why are you so itchy to leave?” Jason retorted. It was, unfortunately, true. Bruce knew that it was unavoidable and commonplace for any sort of family, but the idea of Dick leaving was upsetting, to say the least. Bruce wasn’t thinking about it.

“I’m almost an adult anyway, and I wanna go my own way.”

“What if I want to go my own way?” Jason spun his spoon back and forth with 2 fingers. Dick looked at him thoughtfully, successfully drawing the younger boy’s attention. “What?”

“Jason, how old are you?” Dick asked. It was a good question. Truthfully, Bruce was uncertain if anyone knew for sure. There was a very small chance that Jason knew his birthday, and Bruce hadn’t looked at it when he did a background search on the boy. He could of course pull it up again, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to see the file again. All records of him ceased to be written when he was 4, and the Gotham justice system had failed to look into it. He understood that it was a big city with worse problems, but the fact that such an injustice had been dealt to Jason specifically made his blood boil.

“I’m 13.” He seemed certain of the fact, if hesitant to say it, so Bruce let the topic fall. Jason took a swig from his drink, then, realising what it was, chugged it and held up his cup for more. Alfred didn’t see any harm, and with 2 sets of eager eyes trained upon him with the added effect of Jason’s milk mustache, he poured another cup. He was 4 cups in when he clutched his stomach and groaned, causing Dick and Bruce’s faces to go from mildly impressed to concerned, Dick’s face being of course more expressive. 

“Jason, are you ok?” Dick’s brow creased.

“‘M fine…” he winced, slamming his empty cup on the table, apparently upset that it had not been filled again. His cat didn’t seem to be entirely okay either, but it determinedly shook its head and began licking at the dregs left in Jason cup. The moment he seemed to be finished, they both shot off into the manor, Jason nearly bent double. Dick chased after him, stopping at the door when he was unable to locate him.

Dick sighed, “What was that all about?”

“I have my suspicions.” Alfred put in, meaning that he knew exactly what it was, but wasn’t about to say anything. 

“Alfred, this is about an apparently sick child, why withhold information?” Bruce responded.

“Because, Master Bruce, he’s not sick at all. Although, I could always be wrong.” Alfred was never wrong.

It was a good 3 hours before anyone saw Jason again. He had ventured into the library, not expecting to find Bruce already there, reading one of the larger volumes in the room. Jason stopped when he spotted him, but when Bruce did not acknowledge him, he began scanning the spines of the books at his eye level. Bruce took the opportunity to observe him, finding that the only evidence of the incident was that he looked a little more tired, his steps a moniker slower and his cat laying across his shoulders lazily rather than perched on just one. Jason sat down across from Bruce with a book and Bruce faced him, closing his own text.

“You can read.” It was best to start out the conversation simply, rather than confrontationally. Jason waited a moment before answering, crossing his legs without closing his novel.

“… So?” Jason’s voice was anxious laced with spit and sheltered by a blanket of caution.

“That’s good. You’re lucky to know how, not many street kids do. You’re at a normal level for your age too, but I bet you don’t really go to school. Could you tell me who taught you?”

“… “

Bruce sighed, “I want to help you, Jason, really I do, but I need you to let me. I know I’m being pushy, and that you’re stubborn, but I’m stubborn too.” Jason closed his book slowly, placing it on the side table nearest to him.

“I like libraries. People don’t ask questions, but I guess this one doesn’t count.” His remark was expected, though it had lost the anger of his past comments. Bruce decided to use this time to ask him about the incident at breakfast.

“I know that you likely do not want to talk about what happened earlier, but I have to ask, are you alright?” Bruce allowed a hint of worry to seep into his tone, given the circumstances, but Jason didn’t seem to notice. He hid his face in his hands and groaned.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Then what happened?” Jason drew in on himself a bit, as though bracing for a blow, his cat pointedly facing away. He said something, but it came out as a mumble that, for all his superior hearing, Bruce could not understand. “What was that?” Jason let out a frustrated grunt.

“I’m lactose intolerant. Most cats are.” Suddenly it made more sense, Jason running out of the room, being gone so long, and not wanting to say anything. There was one thing that it didn’t explain.

“Then why did you have 4 cups?” 

Jason sighed again, Bruce was noticing a pattern, “Its… compulsive?”

“Like a drug?” He supposed it would make sense for this to happen. He’d never known a cat to not like milk, and if Jason was right about most being intolerant, it could potentially cause issues. He would have to ensure the boy was kept away from the stuff, and possibly even teach him to resist the urge. There was a long pause in which Bruce returned to his book, pretending he thought the conversation over while really allowing Jason to prepare what he clearly wanted to say, and Jason stared at his hands. When he did speak, Bruce was only half surprised at what he said.

“I want you to teach me, about everything. School, Batman, Bruce Wayne, and whatever this cat means. I know you know a lot about a lot of things, and if I’m gonna stay here, I want to know it all.” Finally, something bruce could work with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter so far! (Whoop Whoop!) I have pretty much the rest of baby Jason planned out, and I got a lot of sudden inspiration halfway through writing this, so buckle up! Happy new year and thanks for reading!
> 
> Also I go back to school tomorrow and am writing this instead of hw so you're welcome.


	19. Another Robin?

Jason took to his studies like a fish to water, a relief and surprise to all. He was naturally curious, and, as he had clearly been starved of education for years, he had a unique hunger for knowledge. Barbara took an immediate shine to the boy, and would spend hours reading to him. Dick often got upset that she wasn’t spending as much time with him, but Barbara made sure to spend time with him once Jason fell asleep. 

The kid was spunky, blunt, and one of the smartest kids Bruce had ever known. It was Barbara that had discovered his Talent. 

“Guess what?!” she had crowed, parading through the kitchen doorway with Jason in tow, broad grins on their faces and their intertwined hands raised in victory.

“You learned how to put your arms in the air?”

“Seriously, Dick?” Jason had to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“Hey, you said to guess.” Dick held his hands up slightly in mock surrender.

“We discovered Jason’s Talent!” Barbara revealed, restoring Jason’s smile.

“Oh?” Bruce was intrigued.

“I can’t be knocked down.” Jason crossed his arms smugly.

“What’s that mean?” Dick cocked his head.

“It means that I tried every leg sweep I know on this kid, and he always dodged. Even when it shouldn't have been possible, he landed on his feet!” Barabara’s enthusiasm had been, as always, contagious, and Jason had demanded that everyone try to knock his feet out from under him. When even Bruce couldn’t, they all agreed that it was quite the useful ability to have. Dick was the most enthusiastic of all of them, taking to having a new brother? Friend? Jason, like a fish to water.

“I got you something, I hope you like it.” Dick smiled lightly, holding out a simple gift bag stuffed with tissue paper in a rainbow of obnoxious colors.

“What for?” Jason’s voice was suspicious, but Dick had to pull the bag away from an over curious cat head trying to push its way past the paper.

“Patience is a virtue,” Dick stroked the cat’s head, who clearly wasn’t listening. “Well, I suppose to celebrate you finding your talent I guess? One of the perks of being Bruce Wayne’s ward, so much cash, you don’t need a reason to spoil people. Now what are you waiting for?” Jason snatched the bag without further question and all but shredded the paper.

“Paint?” Jason seemed confused.

“All the most fun types! I’m sure you know of spray paint, this kind is the best to throw around, this one will wash out of anything, this one will wash out of nothing, this one is so thick you could sculpt it, and this is the most expensive of them all, perfect for wasting.” It was clear from Joson’s interest that he had never had an opportunity to truly do art before. He peeked into the bag and dug around.

“There’s about 6 other kinds of paint in here!”

“And brushes, pallet knives, and other supplies.”

Jason’s face set into bitterness unexpectedly. “I need your money and pity like a bullet to the head.” he crossed his arms and scowled.

“Oh no no no, you haven’t heard the best part. Your canvas is anything in your room you want it to be. Bruce gave you that room, and trust me, you can do what you want with it.” Dick shot him a knowing, rather convincing smile. 

The next hour found bruce walking into Jason’s room to find the speakers blaring with paintbrushes and spray cans floating around the room to create an abstract mural on what was once his wall. There were over a dozen kinds of paints used, thick, vibrant brush strokes and thin pencil strokes in jagged lines, swooping spray paint curves. The cat was running all over it as well, blending patterns and leaving paw prints. Bruce could only force out to tell him to use a face mask over Jason’s raucous laughter, and entirely forgot to tell him dinner was ready.

Jason and Dick’s relationship remained as such for another month. Such shenanigans ensued as Jason’s cat, Bahji as it turned out, pretending to have eaten Dick’s bird, abject chaos after an attempt by Dick to teach Jason to fly, and the egging of several criminals’ houses. Jason’s mural now included various postcards and photos, as well as a stolen speed limit sign that Bruce quietly allowed him to keep due to his attachment to the artwork. 

Bruce wished he could say that he had as good of a relationship with Dick as Jason had with him, but maybe that was just because he’d rather go patrolling than have a water balloon fight in the living room. Whatever the case, Dick was pushing more and more for independence, arguing with Bruce and even sneaking out alone as Robin. Bruce knew that this was typical of his age, but it didn’t make it easier to think about what little time they had left together. He wasn’t thinking about it. Dick, however, seemed nearly obsessed, and of course Jason picked up on it. 

It was just after a fight with Bruce that Jason walked into Dick’s room, tossing an apple and letting the fuming teenager simmer before speaking. Dick thought nothing of it, Jason was a good outlet to vent to, never judgemental and always willing to let him rant. Dick, in turn, had been there for Jason on a couple of occasions, trying his best to be comforting and supportive. A silent contract had been mentally signed by both that all of this was in confidence.

“What’d the old bum do now?” Jason’s cat sauntered into the room, carefully sitting on the bed next to Dick, not touching him and on the opposite side as the high alert robin.

Dick scoffed. “Just the same old curfew bullshit. I swear, it’s only a few months till I’m 18, just you watch him try to hold me back then.” Dick picked up his bird and flopped back onto his bed.

“Yea,” Jason took a bite of his apple before speaking again. “What if you didn’t have to wait?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Jason fell onto Dick’s piano bench, knowing he had the older’s attention. “What you want is independence, right? Well, you’re not quite old enough to move out without drawing the media’s attention, but you could move out from under Batman.”

Dick let out a dry laugh. “Yeah right. You know, everytime ‘Robin’ goes out alone, everyone’s first question is where’s Batman.”

“Exactly!” At Dick’s confused look he continued enthusiastically. “Robin, can’t get out of Batman’s shadow, Dick Grayson can’t yet leave Wayne manor, but what about you? You have to be Dick Grayson, but do you have to be Robin?”

“Jason, I appreciate you trying to help, but I can’t just quit.”

“I’m not telling you to quit, I’m telling you to get a new fucking name. Batman pushes Robin around, society pushes Dick Grayson around. Get a new name, someone who doesn’t let anybody push him around. Then, soon as you can, move someplace new and strike out on your own.”

Dick stewed in his thoughts for a moment before responding. “What about Batman? He was only fighting crime for a year before me, and you can bet criminals have upped their anti since then. Batman needs technical and mental support in the field. Batman needs Robin.”

Jason tossed his apple from hand to hand nervously. “Well, I actually have an idea for that. Well, you know how Bruce’s been teaching me? I thought that maybe I could-”

“No.”

“You didn’t even let me finish!” Jason protested.

“You don’t know how much that name means to me! My fucking mother called me that, Jason!”

“You will always be Robin, Dick. That little bird on your chest proves it. You can carry her with you, no matter what. I’m not talking about that Robin, I’m talking about the Robin that’s been reduced to nothing more than Batman’s tail. I’m talking about the Robin that you’ve grown out of, but just might fit me.” Jason’s face was an image of determination.

Dick sat up slowly and peered owlishly into Jason’s eyes. “... Thank you, Jason.”

“So you’ll do it?” Jason lit up like a christmas tree.

Dick looked thoughtful. “I’ll do the new me thing, sure, but it’s up to you to convince Bruce you’re ready to be Robin.” If Jason did a happy dance once Dick left, it was nobody else’s business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sooo sorry this is so late! The semester ends this week and I have been super busy with school. Hopefully I'll be able to update more, and thank you again for reading my trash. Have the new longest chapter as a little apology from me.


	20. The Flight and the Fall

Nightwing screamed into the unforgiving void, willing it to not be true, for something, anything to happen that might break the spell. He cried out until he should be able to cry no more, voice hoarse and a ringing in his ears, yet he continued. Nothing mattered around him, the flashing lights, the words of the public, the lingering cackle in the air simply did not exist. There was no comfort, no solace, only a man who once thought himself fit to wear a mask screaming at something worse than any nightmare. Such horrors he could not conjure in his own mind, could not perceive nor comprehend. It’s not true, his screams carried all around him as he became that lost little circus boy again, watching it replay in his mind over and over again. This wasn’t real, it couldn’t be, Jason wasn’t dead.

One day earlier…

Jason blew a bubble in his gum, popping it and pulling it back into his mouth to chew on the flavor that was gone hours ago. He was seated at the batcomputer, doing research into the case he was to take on next as well as finishing reports on his last one. In other words, for a robin of 2 years, he was doing boring and tedious paperwork. Though his expression was perfectly schooled to almost not be an expression, his cat displayed his boredom clearly, lying on his back and counting the toes on his paws like he’d rather watch paint dry.

Bahji the cat’s mind link to Jason had grown stronger over the years, and Bahji spent his time making countless suggestions to his companion of how to better use it. Jason turned them all down until one came up that he could not resist. He had often wondered about what happened to his parents after he left. His mother was dead, that much he had seen with his own eyes, and his father was a useless scumbag, but the father he had known was not his biological one. Perhaps, if they met up again, Jason could manage to form a connection. 

He carefully did not look around the room to check who was there, as the countless cameras would undoubtedly pick it up as suspicious behavior. Instead, he rushed through his reports, picked up a drawstring backpack for Bahji to hide in, and headed to the changing rooms to don his civilian clothes.

The library was a strange kind of crowded that did not involve excessive noise, Jason’s personal favorite type of crowd. He waved to the receptionist, who happened to be a minor crime boss, but also was really good at finding the right books and making cookies, and sat down in a hard backed chair at a computer. Jason made short work of logging in anonymously and pulling up all of his necessary resources online before he got to work. There were a surprising number of Todds in New Jersey, but only a few in Gotham. Narrowing down his search piece by piece, he eventually found his birth certificate. He read it over 3 times before realizing truly what it meant, his mom was not his biological parent either.

A part of him wanted to be mad at his mom for not telling him, but another part understood. She had been battling addiction, gang violence and poverty, sticking her neck out for a kid she didn’t even give birth to. He would always care for his mom, he decided, but maybe he could have 2?

Jason looked at the clock and groaned, grumpily signing out and trudging to the door. An incident that may or may not have involved him pushing a guilty but unpunishable by law rapist off of a high rise balcony had resulted in Robin being benched, and a strict curfew for Jason Todd. He had followed the rules so far, only donning the mask or using the cave for stupid paperwork on a case he wouldn't get to pursue for at least another 2 weeks. However, Jason easily got bored, and when he got bored, he was not the smartest of human beings.

It was for that reason that when his biological mother responded to him 3 hours after he had contacted her, he felt that yes, they should definitely meet up in real life.

Jason, after only 2 years of being a vigilante, could not have seen the warning signs that Bruce saw when he went over screen recordings from Jason’s phone. Bruce liked to believe that he could trust Jason, but after he had unexplainedly missed curfew by over an hour, he dug a bit deeper. While Bruce was eagerly searching for the details of the woman, Jason was being led by her to what she called her favorite place on earth.

Jason was ecstatic. His birth mother has long wavy hair dyed blond, sharp facial features, a light dusting of freckles, and tall heeled boots. He did his best to memorize every detail about her, even her unsteady aura and nervous expression. He couldn’t blame her for being so, he had shown up out of the blue and had no idea how to approach her either. She spoke, and he did his best to commit her voice to memory.

“It doesn’t look like much on the outside, but it has an amazing view, don’t you think?” Jason looked behind him at the steep slope they had been climbing rather than at the small cabin on the hill. All of Gotham could be seen in the light of an ending day, the fog rolling in thicker to start the night seemed illuminated by those final rays, glowing with soft orange and purple hues. The sight was, needless to say, breathtaking, and he suddenly could not be happier that he had found her and been brought here. Bruce would be so happy to meet her, and maybe he’d unbench Jason to spend more time with her as Robin, since she already knew his secret identity.

Jason followed when his mother beckoned for him to enter the dwelling, frowning at its darkness but too absorbed to back out. He only sensed that something was wrong when he was 1 foot from the threshold. Jason whipped around and prepared to make a mad dash for it when the door was slammed so hard into his face that he fell to the ground. There was a sharp cry of pain from what sounded like his mother, and he could lie still no longer. He leaped to his feet, only to have the Joker’s men grab him from behind while their boss strolled in, brandishing a crowbar. He saw his mother on the ground, bleeding from a gunshot to the upper leg, writhing and sobbing in the grip of 2 guards.

He mentally shouted at Bahji not to be so stupid, but could not stop the cat from leaping out of the bag and charging the joker, hissing and snarling furiously. He sank his claws and teeth into the flesh of the Joker’s calf, earning him a heavy blow to the head from the crowbar.

“Someone doesn’t know how to train their pets!” The Joker cackled, and Jason seethed. Any other cat would be dead by that force, but familiars were notoriously hard to kill. He slunk into the shadows so as to be out of sight, watching the fight unfold before him. 

Jason flipped out of the men’s grip, jumping in the air and landing a solid right cross to one and a kick to the other’s face that left them staggering. A gunshot went off, one of the guards holding his mother had shot her other leg, and he guessed that her resulting scream would pierce his nightmares for many nights to come. In his frenzy to get to her, The Joker and far more of his men than Jason had estimated closed in on him. He fought fiercely, managing to brush her hand before being beaten into unconsciousness. In his final wakeful moments, he sent Bahji to get help, and realized something that only made his unease grow. Bruce would not be happy.

Bruce was still doing his research when Bahji dashed into the room, looking about frantically and almost running into Kiollik the bat, who dodged to the side. Both Bruce and Kiollik immediately trained their eyes on him, focusing so that Kiollik’s understanding of his words would pass along their mental link. Things must be worse than he had thought, he had never seen the cat so upset.

“Bring Nightwing, bring Batgirl, hell bring Alfred! They took him! They took him! I Knew we couldn’t trust her, I was a damned fool! They took him!” Bruce had no time to comfort the pacing animal. 

“Where.” He asked, a great sense of urgency around his simple question as he set off an emergency signal to Dick and to Barbara, allowing them to see his location and track where they went.

“No address! On a hill, a small cabin! Tiny, dark, Bruce I could smell something! Something very bad!” The panic in his eyes told Bruce all he needed to know.

“Take me there, now.” Bahji nodded and ran out of the door at top speed, Batman following close behind. He tapped into the racking system on his arm and input their final location as where Jason’s last sent a signal, which did indeed seem to be inside a tiny shack of a cabin on a large hill. The fact that his tracker had stopped and the ever prideful Jason had sent out for help was deeply troubling, but he knew that he was alive, or Bahji would be acting very differently.

Jason sat up groggily and looked about himself. His entire body ached, and he knew without checking that his utility belt had been emptied. His hands were chained behind his back and to the floor, and the room was dark. He used just a small bit of magic to look around the room, and saw his mother slumped in the corner, bleeding from a gut wound with shallow, pained breaths. He made to run to her, to help her before she died, but the chain was only almost long enough, no matter how he twisted himself to reach her. A maniacal, high pitched laugh resonated from above.

“Silly little Robin, don’t you get it? She sold you out to me for cash!” His laughter crashed upon Jason, much like the realization that that was the only sensible explanation. Her hesitation, her nervousness, how could he have been so stupid? This woman could never replace his true mother. “Count it as my gift to a dying boy!” His voice boomed with an oddly theatrical resonance.

“You’re crazy if you think I’ll die here tonight!” Robin discovered that it was harder for him to talk than he had anticipated as he forced these words out. 

“Oh goody! I suppose I really must then, if it’s on my sanity!” The pale faced clown fell from his perch and landed in front of Robin, brandishing a now bloody crowbar. It would turn out fine, Jason thought as he stepped forward into a losing fight, he just had to hold off until help came.

Help came just five seconds before the bomb was rigged to go off. Bahji phased through the door, leaping easily over the corpse of the woman and nuzzling his face into Jason’s beaten, broken one. Three seconds later, Kiollik joined them, phasing through the door and fluttering over to Robin, awaiting the arrival of Bruce. Jason would be okay, he realized. Bahji was here, rubbing his face like he had already died, Kiollik was here, and that meant Batman. He saw Nightwing’s face in a window as he allowed himself to lose consciousness again, a soft smile on his face.

Perhaps if Bahji or Bruce had been faster, or if Jason never sought out his birth mother, if the bomb was a dud or the Joker never became a criminal, Perhaps things would have turned out differently. Maybe then Jason Todd, the second robin, would not have died exactly as the Joker envisioned, slain a fiery explosion, and dying with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sooo sorry for being gone so long, I've been really busy recently, switching schools and trying to keep up, I simply haven't had much time to write. This is the new longest chapter ever, and I am really happy with how it turned out. This story is not abandoned, and will continue!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and putting up with me, as always comments, kudos, and constructive criticism are all appreciated!
> 
> PS this chapter almost made me cry writing it.


	21. A Quiet House

Robin stopped showing up. The media did what the media does, spreading fake news and rumors. Everyone knew, however, what had become of the youngest of Bruce Wayne’s wards. The official story was that Jason had been kidnapped by the Joker and held for ransom, but when the billionaire and police arrived, they found that the Joker had killed him anyway. To make matters worse, the Joker seemed to like running away from Batman, because he’d gone on a killing spree that day, throwing the media off their scent. Bruce couldn’t bring himself to pick up the case file.

Everyone in the family reacted differently. Bahji was entirely dysfunctional. He planted himself in the attic and did not move, wailing incoherently. On the rare occasion that his words were decipherable, he was blaming himself, screaming Jason’s name, or simply screaming why, that he didn’t understand, it wasn’t fair. He remained that way indefinitely, and became known as “the screaming in the attic” or “that rotten old boiler again.” Barbara tried to move forward, but would unexpectedly break down in sobs at any given moment and immediately need someone to console her. Dick did not sleep, did not speak, did not eat, and could not work. He spent his days staring at walls, silent tears flowing from bloodshot eyes. Alfred didn’t smile anymore. He could no longer be relied upon to always be there, and dust built up in places. No one pointed it out, they hardly even noticed. Wally stayed at the manor to support Dick, and Bruce was grateful that he did.

In truth, Bruce was tired and overwhelmed and angry, and he was never very good at coping. Everyone was leaning on him in their time of greatest need and sadness, and he could not turn them away. He needed to be there for them with every part of his soul, but he knew that all he was doing was delaying the point where he would break again.

Batman’s behavior took a turn for the worse, beating criminals near to death or to the point of permanent damage before ceasing. Commissioner Gordon was devastated at the news of Jason’s death, having enjoyed spending time with him both as Robin and as a civilian. The funeral was private, a burial situated next to Bruce’s parents. Members of the Justice league all came, including ones who had previously been off-world. Afterward, they all filed into the Young Justice hall, the Justice League headquarters, and Titans Tower to put up a holographic memorial in each, emblazoned with the title of Robin II, a brave fighter gone too soon.

The words were almost hollow to Bruce. There should be more, more about how his smile lit up a room, more about his wit and humor, more so that he would seem real, a son instead of a title. He managed not to cry during the whole thing. He’d cried enough that night, hadn’t he? 

It was a week of this hell before Bruce knew he could go on no longer. He couldn’t continue as a pillar of stone, he needed someone to lean on, a friend. He knew of only one person he could trust enough to turn to, the one person he had told everything important from the beginning. It was a simple text message, no words, only a single space so that the bubble seemed as though it contained nothing. It contained everything, his emotions, his fears, his need for support, and in Bruce’s longest ever ten seconds he was there.

Bruce collapsed the moment he felt himself enveloped by strong arms, resting his entire weight on the slightly larger man, pressing his face into his shoulder and releasing a fountain of wordless tears, unspoken pain. His body shook with sobs and exhaustion, his hands clutching the fabric of the other’s shirt. The last thing he remembered before passing out was the slow movement of a hand rubbing gentle circles into his back.

Clark sighed softly as he looked down at the sorry state of his best friend. He knew that she would see no issue, but he texted Lois anyway. She picked up her phone and sent back a short response of affirmation before again curling up with her toddler son as she had been for a week, reminded painfully that he could be gone at any moment. She and Clark hadn’t had a real conversation in as much time, but she could hardly think of anything but the well being of Jonathan Samuel Kent. Clark was there for Bruce like she was for Jon, and perhaps that was all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this is really short and trashy, I have strep throat and got bored of sleep so sick brain might mess things up.  
Thank you lovely people for reading my ramblings, If all goes well a new character will be introduced next chapter! Hopefully, you know who I mean, but either way, have a great day and as always feedback is appreciated.  
:)


	22. Chapter 22

Visits with Clark became less frequent after about a month, per Bruce’s request. Despite wishing he could have someone to comfort him more often, and the fact that Clark never brought it up, Bruce worried he could be a cause of the apparent strain on his marriage with Lois. He had no desire to get between them, much less cause any issues for their young son. Still, Bruce found himself wishing for more support as the days went by.

Dick returned to Bludhaven about a week after Clark’s first visit, taking Wally with him and fighting Bahji every step out of the door. The cat continued to wail nearly constantly, saying goodbye to Dick being one of his first visits out of the attic. In this time, Barbara had also been making feeble yet honorable attempts at humor, and although the events had scarred her, Bruce could tell that she was slowly healing. He could hardly say the same of himself.

Aside from allowing himself to relax around Clark, the only time he expressed what he felt was on patrol. Batman’s violence in his punishments did not wane, and the public was beginning to lose faith in him. He knew how bad this could be for every aspect of his operation, but once in the thick of a fight, it was all he could do not to end their lives. He was supposed to be Batman, a symbol of hope that would not let emotions affect judgment, and he had had many a crisis over his situation. He did not expect a solution to come as it did.

The doorbell was an ominous tone in the house, as all who lived there did not use it. No outsiders had been inside after the press learned of Jason’s death, and none expected it to change so soon. Alfred appeared for the first time that day to answer the door, and Bruce and Barbara came to the hallway to watch from the corner. Perhaps the most perturbing detail of the situation was that they had not been alerted to the presence of someone on the property prior to them reaching the door, Bruce would have to run diagnostics on the security systems immediately.

The door opened to reveal a small raven-haired boy with sloppy hair and expensive clothes that had an unusual amount of wrinkles for the brand. Bruce recognized him immediately as their young neighbor, Tim Drake, most likely here to offer his “remorse for their loss.” Bruce was tired of such sentiments, was about to turn around and walk away when the child’s eyes locked onto him and stuck, lighting up immediately. 

There was something in the intensity of his gaze that made him feel like he was under a microscope, as though every detail of his appearance was being scrutinized and documented. Was this some sort of happy bat glare? Bruce had seen him at public functions and events and had noticed that he always seemed to drink in the world around him through his eyes. The youngest Drake was often spotted gazing through windows and at pieces of art or simply the architecture of buildings. He was a straight-A student at Gotham Academy, but if he was here to offer sorrow, why was he smiling?

“Mister Wayne! I believe we’ve met.” His posture was impeccable, his voice even. Bruce could recognize an “I’m on display” act anywhere, and was not in the mood.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking why you’ve come to my home?” Barbara watched their conversation with distaste for another moment before leaving, scowl set on her face in sharp indifference to who she was in the presence of. Tim’s expression faltered for a moment, losing some of its confidence.

“Of course. You probably expect that I’m here to offer sympathies, I can certainly understand your frustration. However, despite my sorrow for your loss, I have come to discuss a matter of far greater gravity.” There was a certain weight to the end of his words, as though he more knew than he was letting on.

“Do tell.”

Tim’s smile was back, childish and bright this time rather than professional “I know your secret, Batman. I know who you are, and that you’re a witch.” The statement hit Bruce suddenly, and although there was no malice in anything about the boy, he wondered just how much of him was indeed under the scrutiny of Tim’s eyes. Bruce’s face set as Barbara walked backed in and all present prepared themselves for anything. Tim seemed to detect this, and looked mildly panicked. “Oh, wait, please, I’m here to help! I’m going to help you find the Joker and make him pay.”

There it was, the hint of mal intent that Bruce had been picking up off of him. It was intended, apparently, for the Joker, and it came out in the boy’s eyes as he spoke, a flash of them being angry, slanted, and almost seeming to be yellow. “We don’t kill.” was his only response.

“Exactly why you need me!” Bruce cocked an eyebrow. “I’ve been watching you for years, and let me just say, when I learned that both of my idols, Robin and Dick Grayson were one and the same, I was psyched! I’ve followed every story about all of your aliases ever since, and honestly, you’ve been different recently. Can I come in, or just keep talking about this with the door open?” Alfred seemed to suddenly awake, ushering his in and closing the door. He reached for the boy’s satchel, but he turned away quickly.

“If we’re going to talk at all, you have to tell us everything.” Barbara was speaking, voice gentle yet strict, so as to be clear but non-threatening. 

“Then you must return the favor.” Bruce made to object, but Tim held up a hand and continued. “I am not asking for irrelevant facts or details of the past, but I want to know what I need to. Like it or not, you will include me, unless you want me just walking around. Then again, you seem to like taking in young black-haired blue-eyed witches.” He let the last word hang in the air, allowing its meaning to fully take hold.

Bruce was pondering exactly how to respond when a yowl sounded from the attic, startling Tim and causing him to jump and look up. “No.” Bruce’s voice and face were stone. “You can’t force your way into here. The others were orphans or lost, they needed me, you do not.” Tim was ushered out of the door but planted his feet on the front porch, turning around swiftly and turning his gaze to the attic. His gaze turned yellow and Bruce knew he wasn’t imagining it as a red-tailed hawk flew out of his satchel and perched on his shoulder and matching where it was looking. All at once, Bruce released why his gaze was so piercing, his eyes while using magic carelessly were nearly identical to those of his bird, and he was evidently searching for the source of the noises.

An invisible force filled the air, and Tim could no longer see into the house above him, and had the vague sensation of not being able to breathe for only a moment. When he regained this feeling, all that remained of the force was a sense of ominous warning hanging in the air, and the door was closing. 

“Wait!” he cried, latching onto Bruce’s arm, who shot him a mild glare. Tim pressed on. “You’re right, I don’t need you, but I was telling you the truth about wanting to help with the Joker. If you can tell me, tell me to my face and know that it’s true, that you wouldn’t kill the Joker if you saw him threatening innocents again, then I’ll leave. If you can promise that you won’t beat criminals near-death anymore, that you won’t eventually fall apart because of all of this, you won’t see me again. But if you can’t, then I’m not going anywhere.”

Bruce looked at his face, his youth, his hair, the blue of those piercing eyes, the magic in his aura, and wished he could look away. He’d seen evidence of neglect at every instance where they met, and now he had so many more reasons to intervene. It made him feel sick, all of it. He would be another Jason, he knew it, but he needed support, he knew somewhere, deep down, that he needed a Robin. He needed someone to stop him from hurting more people, from killing and being lost forever. He needed this, but he couldn’t have it, shouldn’t have it, didn’t deserve it. It was, in short, a horrible idea, but so was letting a young boy who knew way too much go back to being near-abandoned.

“.... Go home…. Come back tomorrow.” Bruce shrugged his arm off and closed the door, not missing his determined, cheerful reaction and happy dance the boy did before running off. Once the heavy oak door shut with a thud, he leaned heavily against it and slid to the floor. He hung his head and did not look up when he felt Barbara’s gentle touch on his arm. 

Everything had just gotten much more complicated. He needed… something. He didn’t drink. He needed a nap. Then he would call Clark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I hope you liked my introduction of Tim, I did my best to do him justice, especially since everyone seems to forget he exists :(. I had many different ideas for how this chapter could go, and I'm a little concerned that I made Tim a bit too... ominous? I hope I included enough caring sentiment and cute descriptive words to counteract it.  
As always, your support and feedback are greatly appreciated and thank you for reading!


	23. Tim Drake

“A boy showed up at my door today.”

“Oh? What did he want?” Clark’s voice carried a hint of static with it.

“He… he knew things. Everything. Somehow he figured out that I was Batman.”

“Oh wow. Who was this kid? Did he know your other secret? The identities of the others?”

“Yes, actually. Am I losing my touch, Clark?”

A short laugh sounded from the other line, and something hummed within Bruce. “No way. Does anyone else in the Justice league know any of this? Besides, you still haven’t told me who this kid was.”

Bruce sighed. “Tim Drake. Of all people, my next-door neighbor’s kid.”

“The Tim Drake? Wow, Bruce, you know, sometimes I guess I forget who you are.”

Bruce huffed in fake indignance. “And to think, all we went through together before I told you.”

Clark laughed. “No one would believe me if I said Batman told me a joke.”

“It’s a good thing this call is encrypted then, I would worry about you recording it.”

“You worry about everything. And about this boy, I’m guessing he’s a witch too, since you seem to attract them. Assuming I’m right, then he’s probably a lot more lost than he seems. We both know how confusing powers can be, and who better to guide him? You could use some new people in your life, Bruce. Don’t turn him away now, okay?”

Bruce hummed in thoughtful agreement and tired happiness. “Using ‘and’ to start a sentence? Those were almost smart words, Clark.”

Clark laughed. “You’re welcome, Bruce, now get some sleep, It’s 3 am in Gotham.”

“Good night.” Bruce slept almost entirely peacefully, not waking until his alarm went off. He chose not to question why the other was up so late rather than asleep next to his wife.

Tim showed up at 9 am the next day, ringing the doorbell again. This time, the security measures had tripped properly, alerting the manor’s occupants to the arrival of its planned visitor. Bruce had found no apparent issues with the technology, and wondered if the boy had previously used magic to bypass the security. Regardless of the circumstances, they would need to be updated immediately.

Alfred had only opened the door when the smiling teen rushed into the house, dashing into the nearest sitting room and spilling papers everywhere as his hawk soared around gathering them again. “Make yourself at home, I suppose,” Alfred said stiffly.

“Huh? Oh, sorry, I’ll clean that up.” Tim did not move from the chair he’d flopped onto, and none noticed the bitter look from his hawk as it picked up the last of the papers and shoved them into his lap. The bird perched on his shoulder and immediately began attempting to fix his hair. Tim seemed not to notice.

“Exactly what are all of those?” Bruce looked meaningfully at the messy stack in Tim’s hands.

“Plans!” he responded cheerfully, “Well, more like ideas. Sketches, theories, ideas, this is my research! I’ve managed to find almost all of my files on how I discovered your identities, they’re mostly wild speculation until the ones after robin pulled a classic Flying Graysons stunt! Only they could do a quadruple turn midair. Then there are notes on every known batman operation since and my hypothesis on the truths behind them, of course, I left most of those at home. I also had some ideas for more tech, and just how yours might work or what it could be made of, etc. I was hoping to compare notes or-”

“Okay, that’s a lot for someone who just woke up.” Barbara walked in, Bruce, having noticed her earlier, knew she had heard all that was said.

“Batgirl!” Tim leaped up excitedly to greet her, and she held her head to indicate a headache. “Oh,” Tim whispered, “Sorry.”

“First rule of this place kid, no codenames in the house.” She walked past him into the room, and Bruce saw as she stopped herself from instinctively ruffling his hair. Suddenly feeling stabbed in the heart, she sat down on a loveseat next to Bruce’s armchair and grabbed a mug of Alfred’s earl gray tea. Tim seemed not to notice as he pulled a small, overused notebook out of his satchel and appeared to hastily scribble down what she had said.

“So, what I was saying about my notes-”

“Why don’t we just show him?” Barbara turned her deeply shadowed eyes to Bruce, sipping her tea casually.

Bruce almost conceded to discussing it. “No. If it was up to me he wouldn’t even be here.” Tim looked dejected and looked at the ground, fidgeting with his papers.

“I don’t believe you.” Barbara surprised the room’s occupants with the bitterness of her tone. “You’re supposed to take kids under your wing, to help those in need, to protect them and kill yourself if you fail. Lately, you’ve forgotten that first half, Bruce. I’ve been doing this for how many years now Bruce? Just how many stray witches have you taken in in that time? The only thing different about him and Jason is that this kid uses his head. Jason was smart, yea, but he worked his way in here through petty theft, while this kid solved the hardest puzzle you ever created. I know that him being just like Jason is exactly what scares you, but he’s not. This kid is a detective, Jason was a fighter, and that’s why he won’t get killed. He came to you because you both need help, and you especially need to clean up your act, cause I’m sick of it.” Her speech was powerful and venomous at its close, and it looked like her headache was worse afterword.

There was a moment of stunned and thoughtful silence before it was broken by a quiet snort. A snort grew into chuckles, then full laughs. “You just yelled at Batman!” Tim’s happiness grew, and Barbara offered her first smile in months. Maybe, just maybe, Tim could stay, just maybe, because he had done what no one else had. Laughter had returned to Wayne Manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought we could use some fluff, so take some lightheartedness, ship development, and a pinch of healthy confrontation :). I personally love Tim Drake so, damn, much,, seriously my boy deserves more love. 
> 
> That aside, I'm doing a Q & A for anyone interested! I won't spoil the storyline, but any worldbuilding questions, clarifications, or even info abt me if you're at all interested is free game. If I don't get any questions, I won't bring it up again, so if you guys hate the idea completely don't worry. 
> 
> Anywho, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! Thank you so much for your support, and I look forward to seeing your questions :).


	24. World's Greatest Detective

It took a week of sometimes gentle, sometimes forceful coaxing from Barbara before Tim was allowed to see the cave. As they descended the steps, Bruce stood so as to hide it from the view of Tim’s hawk eyes as long as possible, each step bringing him deeper into his guilt and worries.

Tim gasped, pushing past Bruce and darting into the cave, eyes wide and darting between the various technological wonders across the room. He pulled out a camera and was about to take a shot of a highly advanced stun gun on display when Bruce grabbed his hand.

“No photography, as you could imagine.” Bruce’s tone was stern, but not angry.

“Oh, yes, of course, sorry.” Tim spotted a workbench and his eyes lit up immediately as he rushed over to it, setting down his satchel with a thud and pulling out a few papers, beginning to tinker with some spare parts while his hawk hesitantly tapped the half-built contraption Bruce had been working on with its talon. 

While Tim was at work, Bruce took the liberty of greeting the bats in the cave, allowing himself to be calmed by their presence before analyzing what he knew of Tim. He said sorry a lot, speaking quickly and all at once as though he could lose the attention of his listener at any moment. Then there was his familiar, picking up after him and fixing his hair. The teen was skinny and small, and although he did not seem to be starving or unhealthy, he seemed quite socially stunted for someone who should be the relatively trauma-free child of billionaire socialites. All the signs were there, but of course, there was nothing to prove in court. One thing was for certain, Bruce would never justify to his parents why their son was at his house, nor would he retain his respect for them.

“Can I have those?” Anyone but Bruce may have jumped at the sudden voice.

“By which you mean?”

“You’ve got a whole cave full of bat friends, I want hawk friends,” Tim said as though it was the most simple thing he’d ever thought of.

“I don’t know about friends per se, the bats are… a sort of neighbors, I suppose.” Tim nodded thoughtfully. “Might I ask what you’ve made from my nigh priceless equipment?” Bruce expected Tim to look panicked, but instead, he looked eager.

“Well, this,” Tim spoke as he chauffeured Bruce to the now trashed workbench, “Is something I’ve been trying to figure out for a long time. I found this compact energy source here that looks like it was made by someone very eccentric and managed to connect it to a few things I brought with me and now, oh, wait, do you by chance have any microwave popcorn?” It was a strange request, but it was easy enough for Bruce to summon a bag from the nearest kitchen. “You definitely have to teach me that, but first, watch this!”

Tim put the prepackaged food item inside of his contraption and shut it, setting his phone into a notch on the side and watching it carefully as the contraption made some mildly concerning whirrs and clicks as it worked. Bruce couldn’t help but notice how happy Tim was, his face an image of eager concentration. In only an hour he had put together some scrap parts to create a programmed machine, and although it was certainly only for a mundane purpose, he couldn’t help being curious about what the teen could do in a day.

The machine beeped and Tim removed his phone, opening the hatch. A small puff of smoke billowed out of it, and Tim waved it away before reaching in and taking out the now popped bag, but from the way Tim dug around within the contraption, Bruce guessed that it was more than a programmable microwave. Tim rose triumphantly, holding a fistful of stray kernels aloft.

“I’m surprised it worked the first time! It’s a prototype, of course, but it sorts out the dud kernels and reseals it before heating it. I heard of systems in large factories that do similar things before it’s packaged, but they’re not perfect of course, and I figured they might work better on a smaller scale, and then all your popcorn will actually pop! I’ve got a few rough sketch ideas for one that might work with other kinds of popcorn, and then I got to thinking about all the money movie theatres would pay to ensure the popcorn is always good, fresh, and doesn’t burn. I’d have to improve the design, of course, make it more affordable and visually appealing, and… you’re still listening?” Tim had entirely bent himself over the workbench while he spoke, inspecting and tinkering with his handiwork, pencil already in hand to jot down notes. He looked up and gave Bruce a confused look, and Bruce wished he could take a picture of how he looked with his hair falling over his face, clearly deeply invested in his work and always with that curious gaze.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” It seemed Tim did not quite have an answer for that, and he went back to his work. Bruce watched for a while before leaving to attend to his duties as Batman. An hour later, he was in the thick of conflict with the Riddler. The villain had, of course, given him a riddle to solve. It was an easy one by both of their standards, at least on the surface, but Bruce couldn’t figure out what the answer meant, as it seemed to have nothing to do with the situation.

“I can’t be bought, but I can be stolen with a glance,” The Riddler spoke with an arrogant flourish of his green bowler hat, “I am worthless to one, but priceless to two. What am I, Batman?” He gripped the banister of the catwalk he was using as his perch, leering down at the dark knight. Batman himself was standing on a heavily trap-laden floor, which would attack him with a number of weapons seen and unseen if he moved. He knew that he could escape them, but reaching the three hostages in time was another matter. He also knew that Riddler would reveal what the answer meant in time as he always did, but whether or not this would be a pleasant option did not have a likely positive outcome.

“Hahahaha, have I finally got you this time, Batman? What an easy riddle to finally end your winning streak!” Batman knew not to respond to his taunting, but it almost made his blood boil. He knew the answer, of course, he did, he just didn’t know what it meant. Why did it have to be about what he had had with Jason, what was so cruelly ripped away? Why did he allow all of his frustrations to trace back to Jason? Crackling in his ear broke through his mental fog.

“You know the answer, why not answer?” Tim asked the question almost without emotion, in a tone that suggested he was asking for information rather than critiquing Batman’s actions.

“More.” was all Batman said, trying to convey his meaning without alerting Riddler to it. It didn’t work, and Riddler immediately took an aggressive pose with a snarl.

“Calling for backup, Batman? Just how many kids do you have? The living ones, anyhow.” Bruce knew he shouldn’t care, of course, the Riddler knew how to twist the knife, but the part of him thinking logically was a whisper compared to the raging bellow inside of him that was causing him to see red. “Careful now, some of us in the room aren’t ghosts.” Riddler gestured to the three civilians bound to chairs in a perfect spot to take the force of a dozen varieties of comically large weapons.

“Bruce, you have to stay calm, you’ll never save them if you don’t.” Tim’s urgent voice pulled him a bit closer to reality, but if his eyes had been visible so would be the black storm of magic that remained. “We have to think, Bruce. The answer is love, right? What could that mean? Is it about someone you love, destroying love?” Batman only half heard his words, but his gentle voice was slowly dragging him back to full awareness.

One of the hostages, a professional-looking woman in her mid-forties, could hold her tongue no longer. She forced the gag out of her mouth and cried, “Love! The answer is love, now let me go!” The Riddler’s face turned sour.

“Correct,” he said dramatically, his voice dripping venom and his R’s rolling for an extended time. “If only I had asked you.” He casually pressed a button on the device in his hand, setting off a small explosion near the hostages that did little more than stir them up into a higher level of panic. Bruce lunged before realizing that the crying victims were not in true peril, catching himself just in time to not set off the traps. 

“Or could it mean, but who…” Tim continued.

“Well, since someone ruined all of our fun, the finale!” Riddler spun excessively, tipping his hat and taking a piercing glance at the warehouse’s nearest entrance. Batman still didn’t understand the puzzle, and this could only mean trouble.

“Bruce, I figured it out! He has backup, get to the hostages right now!” Tim shouted in earnest, and Bruce had no time to mourn his over-sensitive hearing as he leaped to shield the hostages. A rain of bullets, arrows, shrapnel, and knives followed on his tail. He used a subtle amount of magic to reach them in time to stop the attack. He sensed the arrival of people, an army, behind him. He turned to face them and they managed to land three rounds in the businesswoman before he could protect her. She was screaming. She still breathing. Good.

“Darling! Tell me, how was the show?” Riddler called to the shadows at the edge of the catwalk. Bruce squinted into the black and cursed himself for not noticing them enter.

“Good enough to stop me from ruining the finale.” The sound of footsteps and an umbrella being used as a cane echoed through the abandoned theatre as the Penguin came into the spotlight. This army was a powerful mob, loyal to the Penguin, kingpin of the Gotham underworld. A partnership with the Riddler, especially with the potential emotional ramifications, promised devastation.

“A splendid idea to call backup. If only you’d thought of it first. Until next time, Batman!” He turned to his lover, grasping the other’s hand and turning toward the rear exit. “Oh, and kill them all.” The goons looked at each other, and a few threw the Riddler nasty looks.

“Just one moment Ed,” Penguin spoke far too sweetly, turning to the assembled crowd. “If you don’t want me to send Zazz to all of your houses, YOU WILL ANSWER TO BOTH OF US!” They needed no more encouragement, and although Bruce regretted allowing the duo to escape, he could not abandon the hostages. 

It was only after all of the fighters were unconscious and bound, the hostages released, and the authorities called that Bruce spoke again. It was quick, and he hung up as soon as he was finished, leaving Tim no room to respond. “You’re in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So since I only got one question I'm not actually sure if people are still reading this... ;-;
> 
> The question was how does Bahji react to Tim Drake, and in short, he doesn't really express how he feels very well. He doesn't like the idea of Jason being replaced, and I like to imagine him staring at Tim for extended periods of time in silence. Still, he recognizes after a while that Tim is not a bad person, and while he's not entirely comfortable with his presence, he has bigger concerns in grieving for Jason.
> 
> Even though I'm not sure how many readers get this far, I made this chapter really long just to show that I love this story, and although positive feedback is my fuel, feedback from myself shouldn't be worth any less than yours. That being said, if you're reading this that means you're in this ride or die, and I simply adore you for that.
> 
> I also included one of my favorite villain ships, if you don't watch Gotham you don't get it, but even though I tried to think of this scene without it, I just couldn't make it work.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading my spiel, please don't abandon my story ;-;


	25. Villains

Bruce sat at the bat computer after coming home, filing reports and puzzling over the nuances of the case. Behind him, Barbara and Tim chatted, while his hawk, Arill, as he had come to be known, flew with and tossed food to the bats. The witches also helped to feed the bats, using the architecture of the cave as a jungle gym. If Bruce knew anything about the villains they had faced, they never did anything without a larger reason. They knew he’d be coming and revealed themselves on purpose, but why? They wouldn’t go through the effort of capturing hostages, summoning a crew, or revealing a valuable piece of information to him for no reason. Nothing about the encounter made sense.

An alert appeared on screen, and Barbara’s chameleon Peifily, recognizing the ping, teleported itself to sit next to the keyboard. Barbara herself continued to entertain Tim. The alert came from a camera equipped with facial recognition technology. The recordings had picked up the faces of the very duo Bruce was concerned about. They were spotted walking the alleyways side by side, seemingly with a set location in mind. Although the pair were skilled at not revealing hints by way of facial expression, Bruce watched as the Riddler’s vision strayed to look directly into a camera at one point, meaning that they knew they were being watched. Bruce immediately dispatched a silent drone to tail them.

After walking a crooked path down Gotham’s narrow alleyways, they arrived at an abandoned apartment complex. There were no cameras inside, so the drone followed them inside. The villains went to the 3rd floor, heading purposely to number 315. As soon as the door was opened, it was clear that the complex was not quite as abandoned as it seemed. Heavy curtains covered the windows, ensuring that the bright sun simulating lights couldn’t be seen. The walls of the kitchen were covered in graffiti scrawled in crayons, spray paint, pencil, and sharpie, and the illustrations were abstract and cartoonish. The majority of the floor space was covered in large, lush, raised gardens. The cabinets were mostly busted, and a rusty pail sat under what appeared to be a leak in the ceiling, and litter was scattered across the floor.

Judging from the decorations and the Men’s vaguely uncomfortable reactions, they were not the apartment’s inhabitants. Bruce had a few guesses as to who did live there, however. A spunky blonde with pigtails and a crop top quite literally crawled through the entrance to the rest of the dwelling, her feet not touching the floor and did a flip to land in front of them.

“Heads up puddin’, the Misters are here!” Harley Quinn called behind her before beaming at them.

“How many times do I have to tell you, we’re not married,” Riddler spoke with only mild irritation, laced with what may have been a small amount of amusement or fondness.

“Yea, yea, what eva’. Did ya do it?” She moved as she talked skipping around the room, touching and holding random things.

“It worked better than we’d hoped, actually. Big Bat really is off his game.” Penguin wore the smile he reserved for when a plan had gone as he’d hoped. Bruce’s frown deepened.

“Then we can stop pretending like there are four of us in this room.” Poison Ivy strolled into the room in her usual regal manner, all plants present bowing in her direction. All four convicts looked directly into the camera lens of the drone, and Bruce decided to turn off the camouflage mode. Penguin offered a motionless wave that was more of a hand in the air and a patronizing smile. The drone displayed one of its weapon capabilities pointedly.

“I’m not taking back the comment, bats,” Penguin remarked with a twinge of venom.

“Oh shaddup, will ya? Why’re we all here?” Harley addressed the group, who all collectively huffed, crossed their arms, or rolled their eyes. It reminded Bruce of children being made to apologize. “Since apparently I’ve got the most sense, I’ll start. I ain’t much for speeches, but I figured, I guess I owe ya. Like, a lot. The point is, What the Joker did ain’t cool. I didn’t know he was gonna, I was in Arkham see, and then he breaks me out bragging about killing Robin, and well he ain’t been my puddin’ for a while now. I could go on about how that shit ain’t easy, but hey, who’m I here for anyhow? I guess I’ll let Quizlet here tell ya the plan, since that’s like, his thing, but I want cha to know I ain’t never gonna stand for that.”

The Riddler cleared his throat, looking at the floor. “I never liked the Joker. His plans make no sense, he can’t be reasoned with, and he has no morals, the abusive bastard. Then Robin goes missing, and you turn berserk, and all of us realize we liked ou better with the kid. Your deductive reasoning skills fell into disrepair, and fighting you became boring and dangerous. So I went to pay a visit to my long time helper,” He gestured to Ivy, who gave a small nod, “And it turns out she’s already got a guest. Here’s Harley, bruised and beaten and looking for comfort in her best friend, and she tells me what that madman did. I had guessed that this was the source of everything, so we got to thinking, how could we help? Not like we’d be welcome at a funeral or anything, so we made a plan. None of your partners in crime had been seen in a while, but Harley said only Robin was dead. Then Nightwing went back to Bludhaven, and we decided that you most likely weren’t letting them out to play for fear they’d die, or they were too upset to make an appearance. Either way, we needed to make you see how much you needed them. So, I gave you a painful riddle and pushed the buttons I knew would make you most upset. While I must admit this was the fun part, the main goal was to make you angry enough to kill. You had to reach that threshold so that someone who cared would notice and bring you back to reality, and you would finally let them help you.”

Ivy spoke next, after a brief pause. “I know, as one who has lost many, that this means little, but the seedling did not die entirely in vain. He brought my Harley to me, saved her from the wretched man he could not be saved from. Edward and I helped each other to realize and express our feelings, and I suppose that his death ensured our happiness. We know we do not deserve it, after all that we have done, but I can only hope that this knowledge aids somehow to bring you peace. It is strength, not weakness, that allows someone to lean on others and say what they feel, Harley taught me that. You lost a loved one to the Joker, and although I have never lost a sprout, I do know now that keeping others safe by pushing them away only ensures you’ll lose them too.”

“I’m not stopping,” The Penguin spoke with his usual brash tone, “I do have a business to run, of course, and no one can be able to say that I’ve gone soft. I have enough uprisings after announcing my relationship with Ed. However, a momentary lull would hardly be noticed on paper. We’ve… come to an agreement that we should slow down for a bit, while the opposition is, so to speak, weakened. But let it be known that as soon as you’re a proper Batman again, all bets are off. You may put a damper on my profits, but a city in panic is not organized in crime or law. As much as you are a thorn in my side, everyone present can agree to hate the Joker for what he did.”

“He’s not the best at apologies,” Riddler said quietly

“Hey,” Penguin said even quieter, half-heartedly elbowing his partner. Bruce didn’t know what to say or do. The drone put away its weapons and slowly lowered itself to the ground. The villains watched in nervous anticipation, and it was obvious that none of them were used to being quite so vulnerable, simply waiting for a response. Bruce took a moment to consider before pressing a few buttons. The drone made a series of clicks and whirrs, and the villains looked to one another concernedly. Then it spit out something from a slot in its side, and, after each of them exchanging confused glances and shrugs, Riddler, who was closest, retrieved it. It was a polaroid style photo of Robin’s gravestone, the one that did not mention his true name. Riddler flipped it over to reveal a digitally printed copy of Bruce’s sharpie scrawl. The message was simple.

“Justice League HQ courtyard, ask for me.” He read allowed, his voice lilted slightly with confusion and awe.

“It’ll be interestin’ to get there properly invited.” Harley almost whispered in an appreciative voice. The drone took to the air and flew out of a window, returning to stealth mode as it did. Bruce lay his head in his hands in an attempt to counteract his impending headache. Barbara approached him from behind and wrapped her arms around him, a rare show of physical affection from someone who usually preferred to talk, but she must have known that this was what Bruce needed. Tim looked puzzled and Bruce heard his light footsteps coming closer before they were interrupted by someone entering the cave via waterfall.

“What. The. Hell.” Dick said when he laid eyes on Tim, whose eyes immediately lit up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, A huge thanks to all of the lovely comments on the last chapter! It's truly a relief that people don't find my story annoying or boring, and my inspiration is restored!
> 
> I officially have about a month now with no school because quarantine is a thing that exists, so we'll see how everything goes with that.
> 
> It's so hard to slow down and take my time to make this story good because I just have so many ideas and I'm so excited to share them, but I just have to remind myself that It's not worth it to share good ideas in a bad way. I can promise that I have some awesome plans for the next few characters and plot points.
> 
> Harley and Ivy are probably my favorite cannon ship, just the homo in me I guess. Thank you for reading and I hope you continue to do so! Have a good day and get plenty of sleep. :)


	26. Camera

“You’re Dick Grayson! The Dick Grayson!” Tim floated circles around him, using magic with reckless abandon.

“Who? What are you, Hey!” Dick cried when Tim poked his arm, studying him from all angles. This would be quite the show. Bruce grabbed his seventh cup of coffee that day.

“Sorry! Forgot my manners there, you’re just so cool!” Tim landed in front of him, grabbing Dick’s hand and shaking it violently.

Dick’s expression softened slightly. “Aren’t you our neighbor?” Dick asked without pulling his hand away. “You’re a witch?”

“Well, yea, of course, but you’ve been my idol pretty much forever!” He released Dick’s hand and dug in the satchel his hawk had just retrieved for him, pulling out an old photo. “See? It’s from that night…? You promised to dedicate the performance to me because I was, quote, ‘so cute.’ I… figured you might want it back.” 

Dick moved slowly, as though he was underwater, retrieving the image from the young teen’s grasp. The picture showed him and his parents in full trapeze costume, and grinning brightly up at Dick was a tiny, four-year-old boy. Tims’s parents were not in the photo, and it was just a little bit crooked, indicating that it was not a professional photo. Dick’s eyes began to mist, and Tim donned a nervous expression. Dick’s robin came out of hiding and hopped over to face Tim’s hawk. The sight of a red-tailed hawk looking nervous at the approach of a robin may have been amusing in other circumstances.

Wally, late as always, zipped into the cave wearing a pair of red-tinted shades. His cheerful greeting died in his throat when he saw Dick’s face. “Alright, no sadness allowed.” He surprised everyone in the room by wrapping his arms around Dick’s torso and lifting the man above his head. Tim’s look of awe at the arrival of a meta turned to laughter as Dick kicked the air and heartily joined him. Wally lost balance and fell, the two of them landing in a heap of limbs and laughter on the floor. “Better?”

“Better, goofball.” Dick teased as he untangled himself and stood up, stretching his limbs and turning to Tim.

“Good, because I’m hungry.” Wally pressed a quick kiss to Dick’s cheek before zooming off to raid the protein bars. Bruce had never regretted allowing Wally to know Dick’s secrets. Tim’s eyes followed Wally as he left before switching back to Dick in awe.

“You’re dating a flash?!” He asked, all enthusiasm. Dick smiled at his reaction.

“You get used to seeing metas around here,” Dick bent his knees to fake whispering so Bruce couldn’t hear, as they both knew he would, “and sometimes supers.” Tim’s eyes got brighter than Bruce had thought they could, and he almost considered inviting Clark over just to meet him, or at least lifting the ban on non-security photography so as to get a good picture. That was until his next comment made Bruce spit out his drink for the first time in several years.

“He turned to Bruce and excitedly shouted, “You’re dating Superman?!” Dick exploded with laughter as Bruce sputtered.

“Absolutely not! He’s married, he has a kid!” Bruce defended himself. Tim shrugged as though that made sense. Bruce was glad that was cleared up, even if Dick was still chuckling.

“You know what kid, you’re all right.” Dick ruffled Tim’s hair, who held up his camera questioningly. Bruce turned away, it was all on tape anyway, right? Dick grinned and posed dramatically.

Wally zoomed in just as the photo was taken, posing beside Dick like they were models. Tim laughed as the photo printed, and the boyfriends shared a matching grin. “Glad you said so, I would’ve stolen him.” Wally had Tim on his shoulders in less than a moment, sipping his drink as Tim took his opportunity to take pictures of Dick with both of their birds on his shoulders from a higher angle.

“We live together, and you do know how much you two look like tourists, right?” Bruce watched from above as they joked about “Batcave Tours, the greatest sights in all of Gotham” with what may have been a fond smile if one looked close enough. There they were, Dick, Wally, Barbara even though she wasn’t there, Alfred, who approached carrying what snacks Wally hadn’t eaten, and now Tim. His family. It was plenty big enough, if you asked him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the fluff is high quality when you can feel it rotting your teeth. I know you guys were expecting big events, and they're coming, but there just wasn't enough lightheartedness. It is coming very soon!
> 
> The next chapter might be really short, so... sorry :/. I'd rather it be short than really hard to read. I'll try to update the next couple chapters quickly so that it shouldn't be too much of a problem
> 
> As always, thank you so much for supporting me, and take care of yourself.


	27. Number Three

It wasn’t long before Jason’s grave was adorned with a sequin-covered hammer, various flowers sprouting from the ground that never wilted, and a green box containing a jigsaw puzzle and a set of brass knuckles. While it was clear none of them knew what he would like, it was also made clear to everyone in the Justice League that they were not to be moved, much like the other offerings placed there. Bruce counted it lucky that they were not there at the same time as Roy Harper, the only one accept him that visited every day.

Tim’s training took far longer than Jason’s had, and it was half a year before he was allowed to take the final test. Tim stayed at the Manor in his new room most nights, only visiting his house so that his parents wouldn’t start a witchhunt. The tests had started out simple, getting continuously more difficult until he reached the top five equally hard tests. Tim had worked hard to eventually complete every other task, training his mind, body, spirit, and magical abilities. The final test was simple, not one of the hardest, but one he had failed to complete, to cross a hundred-yard room without using his Talent, enhanced vision.

The fact that he’d never made it halfway across the room while wearing the enchanted blindfold preventing him from using vision spells was a glaring issue. Various attacks and traps would always surprise him along the way, different each time. The problem was not incompetence, but rather some sort of mental block. Each time, he would be doing splendidly, then rip off the blindfold halfway through, cry out for it to stop, and storm off mumbling about training harder. He had done this seven times, and Bruce had decided enough was enough. He approached Tim’s room only to find that he already had a visitor. The door was closed, but the conversation was easy for him to pick up with his advanced ears.

“This is getting ridiculous, Tim. I know you can do this just tell me what’s wrong?” The voice belonged to Dick, and from the shadows under the door, Tim must have been pacing.

“It’s stupid. It doesn’t matter, I just need to train.” Tim seemed dismissive and mildly panicked. Bruce could feel Dick’s deepening frown.

“If it was nothing you would have passed by now, and I wouldn’t be here. Your suit is made and you already know it like that back of your hand. Hell, you could go out tonight if you passed soon enough.” Dick pressed gently, making it clear that he cared but wasn’t letting up.

“I know I can trust you. I know that I like it here, but…”

“But?” Dick whispered.

“I-I feel smothered, I guess. I talk and even if it’s stupid you just, you just listen? A-and that means you hear everything stupid that comes out of my mouth, and I don’t know what to do with that. When we pass in the halls, you wave or call out and I don’t know what to do with that. Alfred is a butler but he acts like a grandparent and he actually cares and I don’t know what to do with that. I don’t even know if I want you to stop or not, and I definitely don’t know what to do with that. But the biggest thing… ugh! You’re doing it again!” Bruce heard something hit the floor with a thud.

“Whoa, Tim, don’t take it out on the books, okay? Emotions are not always properly expressed in this house, which is why I want to make sure you know that it’s perfectly alright to have them, express them, and not understand them. You’re… kind of like a brother, and I want you to be comfortable and safe, but you have to talk to me.” There was a soft noise of Tim flopping on the bed.

“I… I still can’t believe that you guys actually want me here, much less as… family, which I don’t understand, but the biggest problem is Jason. He has this awesome legacy, and everybody loved him and misses him and I’m not him. What if when you realize that I’m not him you don’t want me? What if I can’t be as good as he was? If he was here, would he want me to be here? And I don’t even know what to think about that.” Tim’s voice became slightly muffled and began to crack as he continued, as though something was blocking his face. Quiet sobs could be heard after he finished, tears of stress and worry.

“Hey,” Dick spoke, and from how close he sounded to Tim, Bruce guessed that Dick was what had blocked Tim’s face, wrapping him up as he did with victims and hostages who were particularly upset, much like he used to do with Jason. “Can you tell me something, Timmy?” Tim made a disgruntled noise at te name but Dick barreled on, “Is this something that you want.”

This time the reply was tired but instantaneous and sure. “Yes.”

“Then I can confidently say that you’ve been training much longer than Jason ever did, you know much more about technology and photography and much less about street smarts and organization. In short, you’re not him, and you never will be, but we love you just as much and you will shine just as bright. And if he were here, he’d tell you three things. Stop being a pussy, get your shit together, and get it done.” Tim gave a choked laugh.

“Can’t put that on a gravestone.”

“Wish you could, it was like his catchphrase. I… want to show you something.” Bruce quickly hid in the shadows as they walked past, following silently. He didn’t know how to feel when Dick opened the door to Jason’s room, abandoned for nearly a year. The door opened, and none were quite prepared for it.

Aside from dust, it seemed he may have just left it. His ghost could be seen in Bruce’s mind here, reading stretched out on the bed, painting his ever incomplete mural, laughing, playing, training. He couldn’t look away. Dick walked into the room slowly, underwater again, Tim following at a respectful distance behind him, eyes focused on the mural. There were slight indentations on the bed, one the size of a housecat, the other a teenage boy. Dick sat cautiously, silent tears rolling down his cheeks. He beckoned and Tim sat next to him in equal silence, simply staring at the painting with their familiars next to them.

Slowly but surely, the house’s other inhabitants joined them. Wally, who seemed to have some sixth sense for when Dick was crying, which, given Dick’s witch blood, was actually quite possible, arrived first. He sat on Dick’s other side, who grasped his hand and leaned his head on his shoulder. Barbara and Alfred arrived together. Babs made it only a few steps inside before she collapsed into a sitting position on the floor. Alfred remained in the doorway with Bruce, all of them staring at the glorious artwork. It was street signs and stickers and postcards, pawprints and patterns and paint. It was messy and it was beautiful, and it was all they had left. Tim passed the test the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exciting things next chapter!! If there's one good thing about quarantine, it's that it gives me more time to write. School's out until almost May, so updates should be frequent.
> 
> I think this is the first time I've updated two days in a row, wow. Thank you for reading, the next chapter will be out in the next 1-4 days, guaranteed :D


	28. Photo

“Robin the third log entry number one! I’m still not sure if the others had a log, but I’ve decided to use this title, as it helps to differentiate me. Everything is running smoothly so far! I have yet to face a villain or make it into public news, but I suspect that may change when the police read the note attached to the drug cartel thugs we bagged yesterday! It says ‘from Batman,’ but I scribbled on ‘and Robin’ with a little doodle of my face!

“I heard of the others doing similar things, and I guess I could have been more dramatic with introducing myself, but not the press will all be gunning to get the first picture of me! Wait, that sounded conceited… was that conceited? I’m sorry, I’m just excited!

“Oh, just to clarify, this is after exactly 24 hours and now 2 minutes and 23 seconds of being Robin! It’s still crazy to hear! Arill is doing well with staying concealed on patrol, but, oh. That brings me to something not quite Robin related, but it should definitely be recorded and reported. 

Bahji has been acting strangely lately. It’s probably nothing, but anything is possible. He’s hardly a normal cat, of course, still refusing food, howling at all hours, pacing and teleporting randomly, staring at me like I’m an alien. Recently, though, he’s seemed even more confused than normal, like he’s looking for something rather than just lost. His noises have changed, and he’s sniffing the air now? More details and hypothesis to be discovered, developed, and investigated.” A voice came from the background. “Time for patrol! Signing off!”

“Come on, Robin. Can’t be late for your first patrol with Batgirl.” Barbara teased, her and Batman waiting by the exit, Batman in the car and her leaning against it.

“Coming!” Tim’s beaming face could not be disturbed in this moment of excitement. He dashed toward the car, and Barbara flipped herself backward into a seat. “Show off!” he crowed, laughing doing a double front flip to land in the backseat before sticking his tongue out at her. The car sped out of the cave, zooming onto and through the streets of Gotham to the sound of voluminous cheers from the public. Tim grinned but hid underneath the heavily tinted windows. He wanted his first press photo to be perfect. 

The car took a swerve to the right, and Batgirl threw Batman a glance that Robin almost didn’t notice. This was not on the pre-planned route that they had been told about, but it was on the one they hadn’t been informed of. This was a necessary pit stop.

The car stopped at an impressive warehouse. It was impressive only in size and the fact that it seemed to still be in both use and good condition, which was rare in Gotham. The car opened and the trio of vigilantes leaped from it, two of them very confused.

“Okay, I’ll just say it, is this where I think it is?” Batgirl spoke, apparently recognizing the area far from fondly. Batman responded only by walking forward, leaving his comrades to follow his lead. Robin would bet twenty bucks that Batgirl rolled her eyes underneath the mask at that moment.

A loud gasp came from above when they entered, and Tim’s hawk eyes immediately darted up to pick out a figure he’d only seen in the news. “Heya ev’rybody, guess who’s here?” cried the high pitched voice of Harley Quinn as she dropped to the floor in front of them, posing with one hand on her hip and the other lazily resting her hammer over her shoulder. Oversized vines crawled forth and carried their queen to face the newcomers, and Riddler walked in, closed his book, and focused his gaze on Robin. Tim wasn’t sure where to look.

“Listening to convicts now, are we?” Ivy spoke in a perfectly silken tone.

“Wait a minute, no puns, no mocking, well lookee that, it’s anotha’ one!” Harley smiled brightly, tossing her hammer to the side and jumping circles around a confused yet defensive Tim, who seemed to have no idea what to say. Harley grabbed his arm and pulled him close, pulling out a camera, making a peace sign and taking a selfie with him in one quick movement. Robin was just as quick, however, in escaping her grip, causing the photo to be blurry. “Damn, well, guess I’ll add this to the wall.”

She walked over to a string of yarn pinned to a wall of the many office cubicles that were lined up in the warehouse to create rooms. Clothespinned to the string were several photos, two of which caught his eye as she situated the new one next to them. They were selfies with the other Robins, both taken when they were very young. Dick was grinning behind her, about to land a flying kick to the back of her head as she laughed and gave herself bunny ears. In the second, Jason was beating up goons in the background and looked as though he had happened to glance her way at an opportune moment. His devil curls flopped over his face as he stood on the chest of a brutish looking figure, while she made a kissy face with one hand on her waist.

Tim seemed to find his voice. “What kind of camera is that?” He asked inquisitively.

“Huh? Oh, this? It was something I found in the street before I let greenie here play with it,” she gestured to Riddler, who shrugged, “Why d’ya ask?”

Tim smiled softly and pulled out his own camera. “Well, I made this one myself, and-”

“I officially have a favorite.” Riddler declared, smiling down at the teen, and it was the first time Batman had seen it as genuine. Perhaps this trial truce could last longer than he’d assumed.

“Nah, the O.G. was the best, had a circus flare, the little performer,” Harley spoke with her usual expressiveness.

“I hear he’s in Bludhaven now, rocks blue,” Ivy said studiously.

“At least he’s finally past the disco phase.” Riddler’s comment sent a collective grimace through all criminals present.

“I preferred the last one, seemed the most like me.” Penguin strolled into the room as smoothly as possible with his cane.

“I apologize, we intended to allow you rest,” Ivy spoke even as the Riddler opened his mouth, likely to say the same thing.

“Do, you guys want a picture?” All heads turned to see Robin smiling at the four convicts.

“Robin, while recovery is difficult and deserves kudos, these are still mass murderers you’re speaking to,” Batgirl spoke for the first time that evening, sounding troubled in a manner undetectable by the untrained ear.

Ivy’s face grew sour, but Tim cut her off. “You’re wrong. People can change, that’s what I believe, I have to. If it’s not true, then it makes no sense to do what we do, and no hero would ever go rogue. I, for one, judge the person, not the past.” The four he had addressed wore expressions ranging from impressed to appreciative. “Now if everyone here doesn’t get behind this camera this instant I’m warning you now I will throw a fit.”

It took a bit of cajoling and a small amount of force to get everyone situated for the shot, but in the end, everyone was smiling except Penguin, who was objecting to the bunny ears Harley had been giving him. Only Robin, Harley and Batman were actually facing the camera, but Tim couldn’t think of a single way to improve the shot. It captured the moment perfectly. Tim kept a digital copy and Harley hung it up right before they left.

“Thank you, I mean it, he’s a stubborn one,” Batgirl called as she exited. They gave small smiles or nods in response and Harley saluted.

“Hey, kid,” Penguin called as Tim left, causing him to turn around, “any idea how many kids are coming?”

Robin shook his head and laughed, “It’s an addiction, sir,” he dashed out of the door. An alert from his suit made Batman look down at his arm, action had begun at the site they planned to visit, far earlier than they were lead to believe. Everyone’s faces became serious at once, it was time to go to work. This would be Tim’s biggest night yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I said this chapter would have big events and... it doesn't... 0_0. This is solely because this scene was much longer than expected, and it felt weird to add more. 
> 
> However, I can promise that they will absolutely happen next chapter! I am very excited, and I think writing it will be a challenge that I look forward to conquering.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, I need to sleep now so try to take better care of yourself than I am, and do what makes you happy. :)


	29. Cain

The bats arrived at the scheduled site and entered the building as quickly as they could, the alarms already going off. They expected to enter a building overrun with thugs and possibly assassins, as their suspects had been seen conversing with known members and allies of the League of assassins. The office building, however, was empty. The fighters lay strewn across the floor and the employees had presumably fled. All of the enemies were breathing, which only added to the confusion. Batman had no time to be confused.

The trio pressed on, headed to the top floor, where the known target resided. He had embezzled millions from innocent families, but it was doubtful the intruders were here to make an arrest. Robin took the liberty of kicking the door down, revealing a bloody scene. Ten enemy guards lay unconscious on the floor and the man they had come to save had a glass shard protruding from his neck, seemingly taken from the large broken window. It had been broken from the outside, and the perpetrators had made a clean, slow kill, judging by the bruising over the corpse. 

The most startling aspect of the room, however, was the striking figure of a girl who looked to be in her late teens standing over the wreckage and facing away from them. She had black hair in a shoulder-length reverse bob and wore the sleek black uniform of an assassin. She did not move as they approached. Robin reached for her shoulder slowly and she turned. She was crying silently, her body language portraying nothing.

‘deserve it, they say.’ She spoke in sign language, and Tim, who had only just learned most of it in the last few months, focused intently on her hands. ‘say,’ Her fingers faltered, ‘But they not say, the things he was feeling,’ It was not shown by her body or her hands, but in her tears and her words that she was scared. It was her, Batman knew, all of it. She was clearly highly trained, probably a worthy rival even to him despite being apparently stunted in communication, and she was unstable. From her words, if they were to be trusted, it was possible that she could have some amount of empath ability.

Robin began to walk slowly toward her, and Batman threw out an arm to stop him. ‘Don’t trust me. Smart.’ she signed, looking at him in a manner that reminded him eerily of Tim, but in a way that was trained, rather than natural. It gave the impression that he would not be entirely surprised if she proceeded to recite their entire life stories. ‘After all, look what I did.’ she looked back at the dead man, her tears coming faster for a moment before looking back.

Robin smiled at her softly. “Can you hear me?” He spoke in his normal voice, doing his best to sign what he was saying at the same time. She nodded slowly, and he gave her another smile. “Can I know your name?” Batgirl established a mental link with both of them, mentally hissing at Robin.

“I know you want to help, but she’s dangerous! We’re here to arrest her. If she wants to reform, she’ll do it within the boundaries of the law.” she nearly screamed into Tim’s brain.

“She’d just break out,” Tim spoke aloud, earning the glares of both of his teammates. “Plus, we wouldn’t really be beating her, she’d just let us take her.” The mystery girl nodded as though this was the most logical thing any of them had said. “What, she could hear us anyway,” he said in defense against their stares.

‘Guilty,’ she signed, almost apologetically. Batman had been wondering why she hadn’t interrupted their mental conversation.

“What is it that you want?” Batman used his not quite challenging voice, and the girl’s peaceful response was confirmation that she’d picked it up. 

‘Help. No lies.’ Her face was set in a look that was probably determination.

“You want us to help you?” Batgirl asked, switching to the voice she used for victims.

‘No.’ she looked slightly frustrated before looking into Batman’s eyes. She made a mental connection and conveyed a simple idea that took him a moment to translate into words before he transmitted it to his teammates.

“That sounds great!” Robin said before anyone could stop him. The girl threw him an appreciative smile before looking to Batman, seeming to acknowledge that it was not up to him. Batman took a moment to consider the situation. The girl seemed to be regretful of her actions and was powerful in both empathetic abilities and fighting prowess. It was doubtless that no correctional facility would be able to hold her if she did not wish it. Additionally, she was willingly offering her fate up to him, and he could not allow her to become a foe on the streets. The best idea of her future that popped into his head was her fighting the very forces she had been allied with and then betrayed, and if her story was to be trusted, she had no desire to kill again. He knew of heroes that had killed on more than one occasion.

“Oh, why are you still considering? Can’t you see it? She’s a witch.” Robin’s startling announcement paired with the girl’s response solidified it in his mind. As she smiled apologetically and a Raven whose feathers matched her hair perfectly flew in from the window and landed on her shoulder he knew, she would be coming with them. “Now, what’s your name?”

She smiled softly and signed, ‘Cassandra Cain.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Cassandra Cain so fucking much I can't even-
> 
> She did not make this easy on me though, It took me literally forever to figure out her familiar. I hope you like my portrayal of her, she deserved better than the Birds of Prey movie. And the bullshit revert of her entire character arch I actually can't even with that.
> 
> I've already written the majority of the next chapter and will be posting it today, I'm only posting this now because I wasn't sure where one should end and the next should begin. Anywho, thanks again for reading, please go read the next :).


	30. Cass

The press and law enforcement were waiting outside the building when they left, but Batman and Cass left out of an alternate entrance, calling and climbing into the Batmobile. Batgirl left the building first, and loudly announced to the press to save their pictures for a special someone. A green gloved hand protruded from the door, firing a grappling gun before Robin dashed out of the door and leaped into the air. The press cheered but Robin made sure none of them got anything more than blurry trash shots until the opportune moment.

He twisted midair and gave infamous reporter Vicki Vale an exclusive shot of him upside down, grapple cord circling around his compact form as he gave a playful winking face with a peace sign and tongue slightly out of his mouth. He was bathed in Gotham streetlight and although it was only clear he was winking because one side of the mask was scrunched up, the little photographer got an excellent first press photo.

Batgirl and Robin hopped a few buildings before coming to a rendezvous with the batmobile and heading home. Cassandra was overall very willing to participate in their interrogation, so it was conducted in the library, with the comfort of Alfred’s classic earl gray tea. The old wizard had taken an immediate shine to the girl, insisting that she make herself comfortable. All present were in civilian clothes, as she revealed she already knew who they were, and Barbara loaned her an outfit. She willingly revealed that she was sixteen, and had been trained from birth to read people and use her abilities to her own ends.

“Who trained you?” Barbara asked as though it was something as trivial as the weather.

‘Dad.’ She signed, giving no more information as she took another sip of tea.

“Who was your father?” Bruce asked, and it was all Bruce with no added intimidation from the Batman side.

She smiled a polite, eyes closed smile before signing ‘No. Bad man.’

“Did he hurt you?” Tim asked, looking about ready to fight. Cassandra held up a hand to placate him. This did not satisfy Bruce, who was definitely questioning whatever parenting methods she had been subjected to, though he’d been wondering about that from her abilities, way of speaking and the fact that she’d killed someone.

“Your mother?” Barbara asked, pulling the boys out of their thoughts. Cassandra’s smile turned to a small frown, and she shook her head. Barbara was not one to let someone she made feel uncomfortable stay that way if it was an option not to. “You mentioned you wanted to help us?”

Her face turned to a soft kind of determination, but it was just as powerful. “Yes.” It occurred to Bruce that he had never seen her use an expression in a harsh way, and made a note that he probably didn’t want to.

“I wouldn’t mind added assistance in the field, and you seem to be highly trained, but there must be precautions, of course.” Cassandra nodded attentively, and Bruce continued. “I am almost certain that you will pass all the necessary tests, but there are many more matters to consider. I have, at this point, adopted multiple children quite publicly, but there is the legal matter of your father, as well as what you want. In addition, acquiring the necessary gear, and the simple matter of trust are all important considerations. In short, we have much to discuss, and I want to know what your concerns are as well.”

Cassandra sipped her tea thoughtfully, her raven dipping its head gracefully to take a drink beside her. ‘Dad liar,’ she signed slowly, taking her time to voice her thoughts. ‘Doesn’t own me. Always want family. David not in anymore.’ The name David confirmed his suspicions, She was the daughter of David Cain, notorious assassin criminal extraordinaire, underground for quite some time, most likely training her. 

“You don’t have to join the family, you know. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be, and it’s a big commitment. Are you sure?” Barbara asked tentatively.

Cassandra gave a decisive nod. ‘Good for me, and you,’ she pointed to herself ‘Cass.’

“Well, Madam Cass, if you’ll come with me, I have prepared a room.” Alfred’s appearance surprised everyone, but no one jumped. This was a regular occurrence.

“Can I come?” Tim asked excitedly, and when Alfred nodded and Cass smiled, he jumped up and began chatting animatedly as they walked out of the door.

“I did not know I would be obtaining another child tonight,” Bruce said after a pause.

“Honestly?” Barbara smirked from behind the book she had picked up, “I knew what would happen the moment she got in the Batmobile. I’m just impressed it went so smoothly this time.” Bruce had nothing to say to that, so he looked for someone else to talk to, checking the phone notifications he had previously neglected. He found to his alarm several messages from Clark saying they needed to talk and to call him as soon as possible. He hit dial immediately, standing up and had already set off to the cave at a brisque pace in case he needed to get zero hours of sleep in order to help Clark.

“Bruce..?” His voice was scratchy and broken, he was tired, crying. A rock fell to the pit of Bruce’s stomach at the conclusion.

“I’m here, Clark.” Bruce didn’t realize he could speak with such sincerity until he heard the words leave his mouth.

“Bruce, it’s Lois… We’re getting a divorce.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaah so much happeninggg!! I'm excited though! I hope you are too :))
> 
> I've done so much writing, it is currently 12:18 am, so I'm gonna follow my own advice and get some rest. 
> 
> First, however, I am legally* required to remind you to take care of yourself too, especially during the quarantine. It's scary and boring and frustrating, and I can only hope that all of you are healthy and my writing is helping to fill these empty hours. Recommendations for spending your time from a certified therapist, (not me) talk to your friends, even if virtually, pick up a hobby, and see sunlight every day. Stay healthy and happy my lovely readers! :)


	31. Bullet

Clark slept in the guest room next to Bruce’s room most nights during the next three weeks, leaving for the day whenever he happened to wake up and often not coming back for quite a while. He only liked to speak to Bruce, forcing a polite smile and walking away if anyone else approached him. It was painful for Bruce to see him like that, but he had seen this coming for over a year and was confident that he was doing all he could to help Clark move on.

Bahji’s behavior had become cumbersome and destructive. He destroyed countless artworks, dishes, ruga and carpets, and an entire flower bed of blooming rosemary, returning from that particular venture confused, as he always was these days, and covered in a number of bee stings. No one could discern the rationale behind his sudden change in behavior, and he seemed unable and unwilling to respond.

Cass had passed every test presented to her with flying colors, but a name and attire had yet to be chosen and constructed for her. No one in the household could resist admiring and adoring her, Dick and Wally being the most surprised when they came for their first weekly visit with her and she greeted them as her brothers. Bruce hadn’t considered himself Wally’s parent, more of a rich uncle who happened to be paying his college tuition. Tim often read with her in the library until one or both of them fell asleep, and she enjoyed helping him with his inventions and codes. Barbara bonded with her over tastes in poetry and had recently introduced Cass to tea. She’d faced and beaten each family member at least once in a sparring match, making them all glad that she was with them. It was hard to imagine that she had ever not been there and although she had yet to call Bruce Dad, she would always be his daughter in his eyes.

Barbara woke up that morning like it was any other, turning off her alarm and stretching before getting dressed and going to her apartment’s small bathroom to freshen up. This was where she normally slept, only staying at the manor when patrol went overtime, but it wasn’t much more than that. She ate their too, she guessed, but that was about it. She washed her hair, brushed her teeth, and headed to the kitchen for cereal.

Like any good bat, her property was decked out with as many security features as possible. Cameras outside her door were equipped with alerts and facial recognition, her door required an authorized fingerprint to open, and her windows were discreetly tinted. It was in her legal name, as it was not used in any vigilante business, and all payments were made on time, facilities up to code. She had recently ordered a few things online, so she trusted all of these factors enough to suspect nothing when she heard a knock at the door and looked to see a man with a package. 

With a simple glance, her chameleon was inside of a pre set up terrarium so as to look normal. She walked to the door casually and opened it with a smile, opening her mouth to greet the deliveryman. The cheerful words never left her lips. She saw the empty box fall away and her heart rate barely had time to speed up when it revealed a gun pointed at her gut. She moved to knock the gun away, and then she was falling backward, feeling as though there were flames crawling through her from where the bullet struck. 

She wished it was like it was in the movies, where the world slowed down and everything was thrown into harsh detail. In truth, it happened so fast she’d hardly seen it. Now she was dying, she knew it, bloody on the floor of her apartment. She had a fuzzy perception of her attacker smiling far too wide. She knew that smile, it had a weird name, laugher maybe? That was funny, was the pain still there? There came the crash of a glass terrarium shattering before everything went black.

Bruce had learned to expect almost anything, but a rattled Peifilly teleporting directly onto his face and screaming thoughts into his head were quite distracting. He quickly summoned everyone while still listening to the chameleon’s words with a growing sense of dread. 

“Barbara’s been shot! It’s the Joker, she needs help!” The other inhabitants of the house seemed to be listening because each of them stiffened.

“What?!” Tim exclaimed, “She wasn’t supposed to be patrolling today, or this early!”

“He shot Barbara, not Batgirl! She needs us, let’s go! I think- I think she’s-” Peifilly never got to finish.

“We’re going. Now. Everyone to her, immediately.” This was not happening again, Bruce wouldn’t let it. Dick, Wally, Tim, Alfred, Cass, and Bruce all teleported right next to the prostrate form of their teammate. Tim started crying, Dick checked for a pulse, and they all breathed a sigh of relief when he found one, if faint. Wally called an ambulance and Alfred sought to use a few basic first aid measures in order to help her while waiting for the medics. Everyone went hyperfocused as Cass touched her arm and she jolted awake for a moment, but she only gazed meaningfully into Cass’ eyes. Cass nodded, and she fell unconscious again.

Bruce stood and watched the mayhem. He may have been crying, but he wouldn’t know. There was water in his ears and smoke in his eyes, and he could have been simultaneously drowning and burning alive for all he was able to perceive. Afterword, his family would tell him that Kiollik all but buried himself in her red locks, but all he could think of was the blood seeping from her that was much, much redder.

All of them collectively considered using healing magic, but healing magic was risky. For any non-fatal injury, it was simple enough, drawing from the caster’s magical energy to heal the recipient’s physical state, but all present could see the diminishing light of her aura. She could die from this wound, and they would need to heal her physically and spiritually, an impossible toll on the caster. If everyone contributed, it would add complexity, difficulty, and instability, and they still likely wouldn’t be able to save her completely. Injuries were one thing, but the fates didn’t like anyone else playing with death magic, and the cost to save her was an equal trade, which, even when diluted amongst five, was quite nasty, and could not then be healed by magic. Lazarus pits and such places and rituals were warped with dark magic. As much as it hurt, it was safer not to risk everyone’s safety.

When the ambulance arrived, they attempted not to allow everyone on board, but five sets of Batglares and Wally’s best imitation of one were convincing enough to change the medic’s minds. It was several hours before surgery was over and the hospital declared her stable and open for visitation. Barbara’s aura had recovered partially but was still fairly weak, and Peifilly was curled up against her, magically concealed when the doctor came into the room again to see the large family waiting. Dick rose to meet her, his hair a mess from burying his hands in it.

“Doctor, is there any word on her condition?” Dick sounded anxious, not compelled to hide emotion in his civilian form.

The doctor frowned sympathetically, and there was that rock again in Bruce’s stomach. “I’m sorry, but it seems she’s fully paralyzed. She should have normal brain and digestive functions, although she may not be able to control the latter, and additional health issues could occur. She should be able to speak and look around, maybe even turn her head, but I’m afraid that’s about it. She’s… lucky to have lived, the bullet hit her spine.” A cloud seemed to have formed in the room while she was talking, and no one seemed capable of speech.

“I don’t call that living.” a meek voice called from the hospital bed. “You guys go treating me like a china doll and I’ll show you guys just how paralyzed I am.” The doctor left the room as all of her visitors stood to address her.

“The coast is clear,” Dick called, allowing the familiars to come out of hiding. Bruce only gave it a minute’s consideration more before he made a final decision.

“We’re going to heal her. Witches, wizards, and familiars take a position and prepare to cast. The moment anyone feels pain, we stop, got it? We already know she’ll live.” Every magical being present besides Barbara and Peifilly spaced themselves around her evenly and prepared to begin.

“Hey Wally, if you had magic, you’d help me, right?” She called to him, a hint of exhaustion and desperation in her voice.

“Of course,” His voice broke with tears, “Us redheads gotta stick together, right?” With that, the healing began. 

Tim was the first to break the circle, pulling his hand back after ten minutes as though it had been burned. Everyone in the room turned to Barbara, who shrugged, then realized that she could shrug again. She smiled, sitting up in the hospital bed and stretching her muscles, and everyone was relieved until she attempted to get off of the bed and fell to the ground. Her legs, it seemed, had not been reached.

“I’m sorry, I ruined it, I should have kept going, I-” Tim was cut off.

“Don’t you dare. I cannot believe how brave, and smart you are, and I couldn’t hope to ever repay you. You gave me all that you have, so don’t you ever give more.” Barbara’s words made a stiff silence fall over the room. “Now will someone help me up? Chivalry is dead, I swear.” Cass helped her back onto the bed.

The doctor came back in, stunned to see her sitting up in bed. She was given a wheelchair and the doctors ordered that she stay overnight despite her unprecedented partial recovery. The rest of the family returned home solemnly, Dick and Wally all but on top of each other in an attempt to soothe the other, Cass supporting the self-loathing Tim, Alfred driving slowly and Bruce stewing in silence. He had a bull of a headache.

When they got back, it had just turned dark, and although none had eaten much that day, all they craved was sleep they knew wouldn’t come. That was, except Bruce, who was in desperate need of comfort. Clark lumbered through the manor door fifteen minutes after the others had come inside, and seeing a lack of activity, headed to his room. Bruce allowed the sound of the other’s familiar heavy footsteps ground him as he waited. When they laid eyes on each other, neither was in a state to be alone. No words were exchanged, and they fell asleep crying silently in each other’s arms in Bruce’s room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I didn't realize how long this chapter was until I was finished, but that's okay because Barbara deserves justice. I'm really excited about Oracle, an icon of a hero honestly. 
> 
> I genuinely love this story so much, my child, I hope you can enjoy it. So much is happening and this story is far from over! we have more characters, more ships, more family fluff, more angst and much more to come!
> 
> Please be cautious under these pandemic circumstances, take care of yourself, practice self-love, and feel free to let me know what you think of my writing! I am open to any constructive criticism, as I know I can always improve, and will only block comments that contain needless hate or bigotry. I love you all <3!!


	32. Spoilers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are no actual spoilers in this chapter
> 
> Wow, a beginning note, monumental. :P

None could say that Barbara was broken, and Bruce suspected that nothing truly could break her, as long as she kept her spirit. She was a fighter, so he should have expected she’d have a plan to keep on the front lines. She announced, with no room for questions, that she would assume a new role as Oracle, coordinating ops and providing support from the cave. She justified that Cass would make an outstanding Batgirl, and this setup would improve the percentage of successfully carried out plans. Bruce approved it, and she started the next day.

Tim was allowed to join the Young Justice team, spending more and more time with his new friends. Bruce knew well and trusted each of them, even if most were different members than when Dick had been in their group. He had made a friend outside of the team as well, a self startup vigilante in Gotham that was new to the business. She was called Spoiler, but her real name was Stephanie Brown, and she romped around the city decked out in eggplant purple. According to Tim, she was very 'Starbucks basic,' but also pretty cool to hang out with. She was not allowed to know their identities, to which she regularly expressed her displeasure, but she did receive an extensive donation of gear when they learned that she had only poor quality supplies.

Cass only used her voice over the comms and spoke in as few syllables as possible, causing villains to nickname her the ‘mute menace,’ who none could seem to best in combat. The rest of the family never pressured her to use her voice more, though it was a sound reminiscent of a nightingale’s call. 

Two months later, Bahji disappeared. He had taken absences in which no one saw or heard him for hours, then days, and after a week of his latest excursion, everyone in the house was concerned. His behavior had not calmed, and Bruce couldn’t help but feel unsettled by his actions. Something was very wrong, and now normal cats ha been acting sporadically, all over the world. It got only minor news coverage, but succeeded in baffling experts and scientists, leaving Bruce with a sinking feeling in his stomach. He had no time to ponder this, however, as Tim trudged into the room, throwing down his stuff and grabbing a mug of tea before attempting to leave. The rest of the morning went smoothly, everyone slowly dispersing, Wally and Dick heading back to Bludhaven. Bruce appointed Barbara to search for Bahji and went to confront Tim. He found the teen in his room on his phone with Arill at his side. Bruce paid the courtesy of allowing his familiar to enter first as a warning, Kiollik taking a position hanging from the curtain rod.

He walked in and closed the door behind him softly, sitting down at Tim’s desk chair and donning a serious but gentle expression. “What’s going on?”

Tim sighed. “Steph got sick of me complaining.” He answered simply.

“I’m going to require more information.”

He pulled his headphones to rest on his shoulders and reluctantly continued. “There’s this guy, and she kept telling me to just ask him, that he liked me too, but I know he doesn’t. I can look at someone once and know so much about them, and I usually have to look, but he’s just so open, I want to learn the rest, and in all that openness, he sees me as a friend, I can tell. So, we made a bet. We hint to him for about a week, then she tells him if I don’t. If he isn’t interested after that, I get fifty bucks and heartache, so if you’ll excuse me, I’m looking on amazon for things fifty dollars and under.” His voice was bitter at the end, and Bruce marveled at how he could be so smart but so stupid.

Bruce slowly pushed his phone down to rest on the bed. “You have to talk to him about this.”

Tim chewed on the inside of his cheek, looking away for a moment. “Okay. But the same goes for you.” His hawk eyes were turned on Bruce now, piercing through every mask he ever wore, and combined with his words it made him immensely uncomfortable.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” He replied uneasily. Tim was unimpressed.

“Oh please, you’re living together, not even always in separate rooms.”

“Tim!” Bruce squawked, “He isn’t even formally divorced yet, he’s still in custody battles, it’s-”

“Complicated? Yeah, it was a lot more complicated before. I’ve seen how you look at him, Bruce, and you looked at him like that before they separated. He’s living in your house, using your lawyers, which, by the way, is why the courts are currently leaning toward joint custody, hell, Lois broke it off because of all the nights he was spending here. What was she supposed to think?”

Bruce’s tone became serious. “If you’re insinuating that I-”

“I know nothing happened, you’re not that kind of person, and neither is he. I came here so I could look after you, you let me in here so you could look after me. Take my advice, and I’ll take yours, and we’ll go from there.” Tim held him in place with his gaze and Bruce gave the smallest of smiles.

“I always knew you were smart.” 

“I’m here all week.” Tim grinned.

Barbara wheeled herself into the room quickly, her glasses were slightly askew and she looked troubled. “I’ve located Bahji, you’re not going to like it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is becoming quite the commitment for readers and myself... I hope this isn't a problem since everyone seems to like reading as a way to pass quarantine hours, much like my writing as a pastime.
> 
> More Bahji next chapter! It's finally time my boiiis! I've been wanting to do this for so long, and I definitely want to do it right. I'm not sure when the next chapter will be out, online classes just started and this chapter must be held to a high standard.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading my long-ass unfinished story, have a good day. :) <3


	33. Lazarus

It didn’t take long for each of them to reach the cave and suit up, Barbara projecting an image into the air as soon as everyone was present. Bruce scowled deeply upon recognizing the building schematics.

“As you can see, the fortress is built like one, high security, heavily reinforced, several undefined sections, and filled with trained assassins. For those who are new here,” Barbara gestured to Tim and Stephanie, who had been called in reluctantly. She wasn’t going to be invited, but they needed the help, and once Cass said she trusted her it was all but decided. Telling them their identities had been rushed and sudden, but necessary, though she wasn’t told they were witches or who they were going to save. 

Barbara continued, “These are the schematics of the League of Assassin’s main outpost. It is located on Infinity Island in the south Caribbean sea. This mission is a rescue and recovery mission only, so only engage with the necessary enemies and don’t make too much trouble. Nightwing and Kidflash will enter through the south wall, make a lot of noise but not too much, Batman and Robin enter through the East, Batgirl, and Spoiler through the West. The four of you, make as little noise as possible. I’ll be here manning the comms, so let's bring him home in time for Alfred’s homemade dinner.”

As they all filed into the bat-plane and took off at the speed of sound and then exceeded it, Tim couldn’t help but look over at Stephanie. She was scowling, multiple patrols with the bats were clearly teaching her how, but it was still clear that she was upset. Tim knew it was sudden and confusing, and she was no doubt wondering who they were saving and what to say when she never met him, or worse they showed up with a neurotic cat. He didn’t think anyone else detected it, but his hawk eyes saw something else, too. She was keeping a secret from them, and he’d congratulate her on that feat if it wasn’t so terrifying. He wouldn’t talk about it though, that wasn’t what family did.

The flight was filled with tense silence, the plane going into stealth mode before making a water landing as discreetly as possible and bringing them just close enough to leap to shore. The fortress had been visible from the air, but the dense forest around it hid it from sight once on the ground. They each split into their respective teams, none daring to be anything less than silent on their short trek to the base. 

The silence gave Bruce time to think, why was Bahji here anyway? Stephanie was thinking too, why were they here, and who was in trouble? Tim was also puzzling over what Stephanie’s secret could possibly be, and why she hadn’t told him. Wally was also deep in thought, but mostly about nachos.

At first, the plan was working smoothly. Nightwing and Kidflash followed orders to a T, for once, bursting in at an opportune moment and disabling the assassin guards around them. Batman and Robin had already reached their designated wall and set small explosives, Batgirl and Spoiler having done the same, but it quickly fell apart. After all teams had entered the building, Kidflash was his with an anti-meta-human blowdart, rendering their team barely able to make any progress at all. This meant that the remaining teams would have to complete the search on their own, making it more difficult for Cass to prevent Stephanie from uncovering the truth. 

For this reason, Batman was relieved to find Bahji first. He was purposefully walking down a long corridor, and each step he took seemed to increase in speed until he was flat out sprinting. Both he and Robin reached out to him with their minds and were subsequently ignored. Bahji’s speed increased still more, and he let out a piercing yowl that Batman was sure alerted at least a dozen guards. Now was not the time for an outburst.

The world stopped spinning when Bahji threw open the door with his magic. A ghost of Bruce saw the cat leap into the arms of the... man... behind the door, but it seemed even his lungs had stopped working. If they had been silent before, sound no longer seemed to exist. Bahji broke down entirely, shaking and sobbing and mumbling nonsense as he nuzzled and climbed every inch of the man he could reach. It was when he looked the cat into the eyes and seemed to wake up slowly, recognizing him and looking lost and confused that Bruce accepted it. This was Jason, older, scarred, and muscular, but his eyes, the set of his jaw, the way he stood, it was him. It was his son, back from the dead.

Bruce couldn’t walk, couldn’t speak. People came back from the dead every day during the past few years, why was this so startling? He knew Jason was strong, the sign Bahji had been showing, the Lazarus pits under the League base, it made sense, why hadn’t he figured it out? Why was he crying? Guards arrived, and Robin fought them alone for a while, trying to alert Batman the whole time, but it was not Bruce who came to his aid in the end.

Jason heard the commotion and looked over, and Batman wished he’d never seen the looked that dawned on his face. It happened quickly, without the use of magic and with Bahji still cradled in his arms, but in less than a minute all seven guards Robin had been fending off lay dead on the floor. His eyes were glowing an unnatural shade of green, and the only emotion he showed was pure rage. When he trained those eyes on Tim and dragged him off his feet by the color, snarling words, Batman woke up.

“You replaced me.” Batman never thought him capable of speaking with such venom.

“Jason, stop.” Batman took a step closer, causing Jason to take two steps back and tighten his hold on Robin to a choking grip. Robin struggled out of his hold, but he proved to be no match for the older, who deflected his kicks with apparent ease, using techniques Bruce never taught him to restrain Tim again.

“Why?! Why should I, if he dies he’ll most likely come back anyway, and you can add it to your list of reasons why you’re an asshole!” The green in his eyes became brighter, drowning out pupils and white with its intensity as he stared into Tim’s eyes with a knife at his throat. “Maybe that’s why you recruit so many kids, why this one’s so utterly weak, we’re all just future reasons for you to throw a pity party.” Tim flipped skillfully away, and when Jason went after him again, Bruce defended Robin as well. Jason was fighting to kill, Bahji refusing to leave his shoulders as he outclassed the youngest Robin and fought toe to toe with the Dark Knight. 

This was the scene that Spoiler and Batgirl rushed in on, bringing with them three assassins hot on their tails. Spoiler’s eyes widened at the sight of Jason and his fluorescent eyes paired with the cat perched atop him. Jason spotted them and his rage only seemed to grow, but, after watching Batgirl take out the assassins, he fled during the cofusion. Everyone raced after him, but he was recklessly using visible levels of magic to enhance speed, and after he jumped through a window he was gone.

A dozen assassins flooded the hall from behind them, and each vigilante assumed a fighting stance. As black-clad reinforcements dropped from the ceiling and climbed in through the window and Nightwing and Kidflash burst in, Spoiler spoke with an irritated sigh. 

“You guys have a lot of explaining to do after this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aah, I just barely missed updating on 4/20/2020!! :((
> 
> I am so sorry for being gone so long, schoolwork started back up, I'm moving soon, and it has been very hard to find inspiration. I hope this long-anticipated chapter can begin to make up for the time lost. This work is not abandoned, and I am not dead!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and being patient with me, I hope to see you next time, I promise it'll be sooner this time!


	34. Chapter 34

“That’s not how this works,” Bruce spoke from the cave upon hearing that Stephanie did not intend to leave until she got an explanation. She couldn’t possibly understand even if she wanted to. A teammate being brought back to life a killer and found unexpectedly hurt, but it was common enough to believe, but an all-in rescue mission for a cat?

“Then you have to tell us your secret,” Tim interjected calmly, and Bruce would hear her out, then kick her out. It was underhanded of course, but it was far more dangerous to tell an outsider the truth.

“Deal,” Stephanie said decisively, with a surprising lack of reluctance. “You would’ve figured it out anyway.” She flipped down her spoiler hood and shook out her long, fluffy blonde hair. Purple swirls the color of her suit flowed into the air and seemed to make a lap around her head, bouncing all the way and settling on her shoulder. A white hare with black eyes blinked for a moment before hopping onto the cold floor and sniffing at a nearby pedestal.

Cass clapped happily, ‘witch! We tell her now, right?’ she signed.

“Cassandra, it’s not that simple-” Bruce was cut off again.

“Why not?” Dick spoke. “I’ve been here the longest, and after everything she’s seen and knows, I’d be surprised if Alfred hadn’t already prepared a room for her.” Conveniently, the iconic butler was not present. The glares of all of his children, no, not all of them, he reminded himself painfully, eventually made him cave.

“Fine, but I will be speaking.” Everyone seemed okay with this, so he continued. “The man you saw was Jason Todd, or what’s left of him. You likely saw about him on the news, he was a street kid that I foolishly took in thinking I was the only one who could truly help. Perhaps if I hadn’t… but it doesn’t matter. He died as Robin because I wasn’t there. He was my greatest failure, and the reverie I fell into allowed Tim to come along and pull me out of it. But there’s more to it, the part I didn’t want to reveal. We’re witches, all of us, except Alfred is a wizard.” Everyone’s respective familiars came out of hiding, crawling out of pockets they shouldn’t fit in or from under capes.

“We left that day to rescue Jason’s familiar,” Bruce continued. “He had his cat, as you saw. The animal became an absolutely inconsolable mess after he died, we were caring for it and couldn’t imagine why it had left. There were rumors the League could raise the dead, but we never anticipated that. We should have, and we shouldn’t have brought you into this.”

“Hmm,” Stephanie hummed mock thoughtfully. “Well, I say you couldn’t keep me away. I’m a witch, that’s what it’s called? Well, I’m going to go see about that room you mentioned.”

Tim spoke just as she got up and Alfred appeared in the doorway. “You knew you had magic? That’s impressive, do you happen to know anything you’re unexplainably good at? Like a Talent?”

Steph grinned over her shoulder proudly. “I’m fast. Alfred, about that room, if you don’t mind?”

“But of course, Mistress Stephanie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter this time, sorry about that, but then, I did post twice in one day ;P
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this... fluff? I'm not quite sure honestly, but I can promise the next chapter will definitely be longer. I know that I've been revealing their familiars and such pretty much as soon as they're properly introduced, but as a little hint, this won't be true all the time!! :))
> 
> I've fallen in love with this story, and I hope you feel the same. Stay safe and healthy, my lovely readers!


	35. Kitty Cat

A new murderous vigilante and mob boss graced the streets of Gotham in less than a week, dubbing himself the Red Hood. Conflicting stories of drug dealing, the murder of rapists and killers, and the rescue of a small child captivated Gotham. There was no surviving footage of him yet, but witnesses said he wore a helmet that covered his entire head, a brown jacket, and what appeared to be ordinary jeans but was apparently armored. No one could get a shot off on him, he seemed to be inhumanely strong and skilled, and not a hint of skin was visible through his costume.

However, those were not the details anyone gossiped about. Just as blood-red as his helmet was a bat symbol emblazoned on his chest underneath his open jacket. Everyone had their theories, he used to be Batman, he used to work with Batman, or maybe he was another new one and Batman now endorsed killing. Some even said he was killed by Batman and brought back to life. 

The other detail that baffled the public was his cat. Rumors were spread through those that worked under him that only he was allowed to feed the cat, and if he asked you to pet it or feed it you were dead where you stood. On the other hand, a six-year-old girl who claimed that he rescued her from an exploding building also claimed that he had let her pet it to comfort herself. It was not always visible, but it never seemed to leave nor was seen out of physical contact with him. The media spread rumors that he talked to it, it used to be human, he used to be a cat, as well as several of the same twisted ones anyone had about them when they took an animal as part of their persona.

Bruce couldn’t decide if he was devastated or fuming, but the latter seemed easier. How dare he break the most important rule without remorse, invent his own way of doing things, and call it justice? How dare he take Bruce’s greatest wish and twist it like a genie? How could the universe bring back the one he missed most just to hear him say that he hated him. 

It was a week later already and Bruce had yet to spend a single moment alone. Normally, despite the number of residents in the manor, he had little trouble retreating to a quiet corner of the estate to train, meditate, or brood. After everything that occurred, however, he had yet to go twenty-four hours without at least three panic attacks. Bruce didn’t know if it was his super senses or the strength of their relationship, but Clark noticed and refused to leave him alone. The company was comforting, especially in the midst of a panic attack or nightmare, but normally Bruce would punish himself by retreating farther from others and worsening his mental state. Clark, it seemed, was having none of it, and from their behavior, seemed to have convinced his family to see things the same way. Bruce didn’t think he’d ever met anyone like him.

Barbara cried at first but then dedicated herself instead to finding Jason, as he seemed to have disappeared since their encounter. Dick had a hard time acknowledging the truth of what his little brother had become, still disappointed that he hadn’t even seen him. Tim seemed shocked but angry, after all, what was one supposed to feel after their childhood idol nearly strangled them? He decided to let it affect him as little as possible, going ahead with his life. He got together with Kon, who actually improved his relationship with Superman with both of them at the Manor frequently.

Dick was very surprised when he awoke in his room after patrol to the sound of meowing. It was almost sunrise, but Dick was more focused on the cow spot long hair sitting in his open window frame. This was shocking for a number of reasons, Dick was on the third floor, and despite being next to a tree, no animal had ever climbed up to his window, which was equipped with alarms and was never open. Somehow, though, these facts were much more reassuring than alarming. He only knew one person who could be summoning him, and he needed to see him. So it was that Dick Grayson followed a cat all the way to the main part of Gotham with bedhead, only the illusion that he was wearing more than pajamas, and in the company of a small bird.

It was Jason on the roof of the old music rental store, he could tell for many reasons. The cat that was guiding him stopped in front of the Red Hood respectfully and gained a scratch on the chin. The way he was gentle with the animal, his posture, the familiar draped across his shoulders, his very aura radiated the boy he once knew, but oh so differently. Dick sat on the roof and just… watched. Watched the street cats flock to their witch, watched Jason wait patiently for him to finish watching, took in the blood color of his helmet, and who he was now.

“If you don’t quit staring you’ll make Wally jealous.” It was a joke, but it was said in a neutral voice that told Dick there were things he wanted to talk about, but Dick wasn’t ready. He wasn’t finished, so his response was sad and very delayed.

“You were always spunky… Just when did you get so big?” Jason shifted a bit to look at what appeared to be directed at him, but he still had the helmet on.

“I need to know, why’s the neighbor kid wearing my suit? And with pants?” Dick managed a laugh at the hint of mock confusion that sneaked into Jason’s filtered voice.

“I knew you’d ask. The truth is… Bruce almost killed himself after you died, not jumping off a bridge, but running himself into the ground. The old bastard wouldn’t listen to us, not that we could figure out what to say anyway. That kid shows up at our door already knowing everything, and on top of that he’s a witch, and you know that normally that would mean he’s already got a room, but Bruce really did try to push him away. He thought you were too similar, that he’d kill Tim somehow, but it was how different you really are that convinced Bruce he could stay. He saved him, Jay.” Dick let all of his emotion show.

Jason’s fists clenched. “Bullshit. I died, and my killer is still running around, and I’ve been replaced. Nothing’s different at all. Why the FUCK do I even EXIST?!” He shot up, and Dick saw snakes of toxic green choking the crimson tendrils of his natural magic, the color a harsh mockery of Barbara’s emerald green magic. Dick didn’t know how, but he was certain that this alien magic had brought him back, and his brother was paying a mental price.

“To be my brother.” Dick didn’t use that word lightly, and it was enough to calm him enough to unclench his fists but continue pacing. Bahji meowed softly and gently licked the cheek part of his helmet, sitting up more as nearby street cats came out of the woodwork to circle and comfort their witch.

“I have to go somewhere.” Dick could tell from Jason’s voice that it was important, but he had to fight not to let loose tears. He failed him, failed his little brother, and hurt him in the cruelest of ways.

“Will I see you again?” Dick was unable and unwilling to keep the desperation from his tone. Jason hesitated before making a gesture with his hand.

“He’ll keep you company, make sure you get any news from me, check in with you every once in a while.” A short hair tuxedo cat that looked ragged, malnourished, and feral walked forward from the hoard of cats. Dick turned to the animal, reaching out to stroke its likely flea-infested fur, a hint of pity in his head for it. Its eyes narrowed and it let out a soft hiss when Dick got too close, and Dick guessed that it wouldn’t hurt him, but wasn’t a snuggler. He was about to ask why this cat, but he sensed without looking up that Jason was gone, and headed home.

Jason teleported to his destination city directly, draining the majority of his magical energy in so doing, but it was worth it to see the sign for Star City.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jayroy coming next chapter! Brownie points to anyone who recognized the cat, extra points to those who know what it means! :)
> 
> I'm so excited for these next few chapters, and I hope you are too! The family has more members to be included! I love you all, thank you so much for reading. Sorry updates haven't been as frequent, writer's block sucks. Hope to see you all soon!


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